"No," she replied, "I can't permit it. I appreciate your offer, but I don't care to have the Church interested in my husband's funeral."
"Why not, Mrs. Bradley?"
She looked at him steadily for a moment before replying. Then she answered his question by asking another.
"What did the Church ever do for John Bradley in his lifetime that it should concern itself now about the burial of his body?"
He, too, paused for a moment before replying. Then he said:
"The Church did all for John Bradley that he would permit her to do. Her doors were always open to him. She urged him, in countless ways, to partake of the consolations of religion under her auspices and protection. I, as a minister of Christ, may have been remiss in the performance of my duty; doubtless I have been, but the Church has never been derelict in the performance of hers, and she remains always the same."
She hastened to defend him against himself.
"You haven't been remiss," she declared. "You've done what you've considered your duty as far as you've been permitted to do it. I've nothing against you. You're better than your Church. I've heard other people say that. I've been once or twice to hear you preach. I may go again. I like what you say. But I've no use for the Church. I judge the Church by the people who support it and manage it. And I don't care for the people who support and manage your church and sit in most of the pews."
"Why not, Mrs. Bradley?"
"Because they are rich and look down on us. They hire us and pay us our wages; they dole out a little charity when we are in hard luck, but they would consider it a disgrace to associate with us on any kind of terms of equality. They don't regard us as human beings with the same right that they have to live com-
