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Updated: June 26, 2025
I sank back into my seat, my worthy uncle holding my arm tightly with both hands, lest I should try to make my escape over the laps of Aunt Caroline and Aunt Jennie. All this time the Reverend Lettuce-Spray had been standing in the pulpit, making no sound.
Some wag had remarked if you wanted to call directors' meeting after the service, you could settle all the business of Western City in St. Bartholomew's! The organ pealed and the white-robed choir marched in, bearing the golden crosses, and followed by the Reverend Dr. Lettuce-Spray, smooth-shaven, plump and beautiful, his eyes bent reverently on the floor.
And am I not more needed in the world?" "Well," said I, "there's one thing certain." I pointed up to the window. "That hole is conspicuous." "Yes, that is true." "And if it should rain, the altar would be ruined. The Reverend Dr. Lettuce-Spray would be dreadfully distressed. That altar cloth was left to the church in the will of Mrs.
Ye have built a temple to Mammon, and defile the name of my Father therein!" The storm grew louder. "This is preposterous!" exclaimed my uncle Timothy at my side. And the Reverend Lettuce-Spray managed to find his voice. "Sir, whoever you are, leave this church!" Carpenter turned upon him. "You give orders to me you who have brought back the moneychangers into my Father's temple?"
We came to the hymn which precedes the sermon, and turning to the number, we obediently proclaimed: The Son of God goes forth to war A kingly crown to gain: His blood-red banner streams afar: Who follows in His train? During the singing of the last verse, the Reverend Lettuce-Spray had moved silently into the pulpit.
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