"Is it not written that God dwelleth
not in temples made with hands? 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?" And
suddenly he faced the congregation, crying in a voice of wrath:
"Algernon de Wiggs! Stand up!"
Strange as it may seem, the banker rose in his pew; whether under
the spell of Carpenter's majestic presence, or preparing to rush at
him and throw him out, I could not be sure. The great banker's face
was vivid scarlet.
And Carpenter pointed to another part of the congregation. "Peter
Dexter! Stand up!" The president of the Dexter Trust Company also
arose, trembling as if with palsy, mumbling something, one could not
tell whether protest or apology.
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