“Of course it is. That’s what we think. And then we got criticized there in that fool town! We tried—that is, Sister Falconer here tried—a stunt that was new for us. We opened up on some of the worst dives and blind tigers by name. We even gave street numbers. The attack created a howling sensation; people just jammed in, hoping we’d attack other places. I believe that’s a good policy. We’re going to try it here next week. It puts the fear of God into the wicked, and slams over the revival.”
“There’s danger in that sort of thing, though,” said Dr. Binch. “I don’t advise it. Trouble is, in such an attack you’re liable to offend some of the leading church members—the very folks that contribute the most cash to a revival. They’re often the owners of buildings that get used by unscrupulous persons for immoral purposes, and while they of course regret such unfortunate use of their property, if you attack such places by name, you’re likely to lose their support. Why, you might lose thousands of dollars! It seems to me wiser and more Christian to just attack vice in general.”
“How much orchestra do you use, Dr. Binch?” asked Sharon.
“All I can get hold of. I’m carrying a pianist, a violinist, a drummer, and a cornetist, besides my soloist.”
“But don’t you find some people objecting to fiddling?”
“Oh, yes, but I jolly ’em out of it by saying I don’t believe in letting the devil monopolize all these art things,” said Dr. Binch. “Besides, I find that a good tune, sort of a nice, artistic, slow, sad one, puts folks into a mood where they’ll come across both with their hearts and their contributions. By the way, speaking of that, what luck have you folks had recently in raising money? And what method do you use?”
“It’s been pretty good with us—and I need a lot, because I’m supporting an orphanage,” said Sharon. “We’re sticking to the idea of the freewill offering the last day. We can get more money than any town would be willing to guarantee beforehand. If the appeal for the freewill offering is made strong enough, we usually have pretty fair results.”
“Yes, I use the same method. But I don’t like the term ‘freewill offering,’ or ‘thank offering.’ It’s been used so much by merely second-rate evangelists, who, and I grieve to say there are such people, put their own gain before the service of the Kingdom, that it’s got a commercial sound. In making my own appeal for contributions, I use ‘love offering.’ ”
“That’s worth thinking over, Dr. Binch,” sighed Sharon, “but, oh, how tragic it is that we, with our message of salvation—if the sad old world would but listen, we could solve all sorrows and difficulties—yet with this message ready, we have to be practical and raise money for our expenses and charities. Oh, the world doesn’t appreciate evangelists. Think what we can do for a resident minister! These preachers who talk about conducting their own revivals make me sick! They don’t know the right technique. Conducting revivals is a profession. One must know all the tricks. With all modesty, I figure that I know just what will bring in the converts.”
“I’m sure you do, Sister Falconer,” from Binch. “Say, do you and Brother Gantry like union revivals?”
“You bet your life we do,” said Brother Gantry. “We won’t conduct a revival unless we can have the united support of all the evangelical preachers in town.”
“I think you are mistaken, Brother Gantry,” said Dr. Binch. “I find that I have the most successful meetings with only a few churches, but all of them genuinely OK. With all the preachers joined together, you have to deal with a lot of these two-by-four hick preachers with churches about the size of woodsheds and getting maybe eleven hundred a year, and yet they think they have the right to make suggestions! No, sir! I want to do business with the big downtown preachers that are used to doing things in a high-grade way and that don’t kick if you take a decent-sized offering out of town!”
“Yuh, there’s something to be said for that,” said Elmer. “That’s what the Happy Sing Evangelist—you know, Bill Buttle—said to us one time.”
“But I hope you don’t like Brother Buttle!” protested Dr. Binch.
“Oh, no! Anyway I didn’t like him,” said Sharon, which was a wifely slap at Elmer.
Dr. Binch snorted, “He’s a scoundrel! There’s rumors about his wife’s leaving him. Why is it that in such a high calling as ours there are so many rascals? Take Dr. Mortonby! Calling himself a cover-to-cover literalist, and then his relations to the young woman who sings for him—I would shock you, Sister Falconer, if I told you what I suspect.”
“Oh, I know. I haven’t met him, but I hear dreadful things,” wailed Sharon. “And Wesley Zigler! They say he drinks! And an evangelist! Why, if any person connected with me were so much as to take one drink, out he goes!”
“That’s right, that’s right. Isn’t it dreadful!” mourned Dr. Binch. “And take this charlatan Edgar Edgars—this obscene ex-gambler with his disgusting slang! Uh! The hypocrite!”
Joyously they pointed out that this rival artist in evangelism was an ignoramus, that a passer of bogus checks, the other doubtful about the doctrine of the premillennial coming; joyously they concluded that the only intelligent and moral evangelists in America were Dr. Binch, Sister Falconer, and Brother Gantry, and the lunch broke up in an orgy of thanksgiving.
“There’s the worst swellhead and four-flusher in America, that Binch, and he’s shaky on Jonah, and I’ve heard he chews tobacco—and then pretending to be so swell and citified. Be careful of him,” said Sharon to Elmer afterward, and “Oh, my dear, my dear!”
Chapter XV
I
It was not her eloquence but her healing of the sick which raised Sharon to such eminence that she promised
