The old gentleman who
represented spiritualism was on hand, asking if the dead are still
alive, and if so, where are they?
Then, before the meeting was over, there came a sick man to be
healed; and others, pushing their way through the crowd, clamoring
about the wagon, seeking even to touch the hem of Carpenter's
garments. After a couple of hours of this he announced that he was
worn out. But it was a problem to get the wagon started; they could
only move slowly, the driver calling to the people in front to make
room. So they went down the street, and I got into my car and
followed at a distance. I did not know where they were going, and
there was nothing I could do but creep along--a poor little rich boy
with a big automobile and nobody to ride in it, or to pay any
attention to him.
The wagon drove to the city jail; which rather gave me a start,
because I had been thinking that the party might be arrested at any
minute, on complaint to the police from the church. But apparently
this did not trouble Carpenter.
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