too startling, too revolutionary, to be replied to at once. The parishioners of Christ Church had occupied exclusive pews for two generations and more. They had come to consider them as much their private property as were their own dining-rooms, or their front porches. How could this vestry shatter, in a night, the traditions of years? It was a foregone conclusion that the rector's recommendation would meet with disapproval—and it did. Mr. Hughes, capitalist, was the first to express his dissent.
"I, for one," he said, "am opposed to it. It would deprive us of a fixed income. It would revolutionize the policy and the customs of the church in this respect. I do not believe the bulk of our pewholders would ever consent to it. I, myself, would be entirely unwilling to relinquish my right to the exclusive use of a pew. I am ready to pay for one, and I do pay for it, and when I pay for it I propose to reserve the right to say who shall sit in it."
"I appreciate your point of view, Mr. Hughes," replied the rector; "but I feel that we must look at the matter from a broader standpoint. Do we want these people to worship with us or do we not? If we do, it is plain that we must provide for them. They, themselves, feel that it is something of an intrusion for them to occupy pews set apart for the exclusive use of others. Many of them cannot afford even to pay rentals for sittings; and, if they could, we have not the vacant sittings for them. What shall we do with them? Shall we give them to understand that they are unwelcome, or shall we admit them to the privileges of Christ Church on an equal footing with ourselves? The problem is yours, gentlemen."
"We might," suggested Rapalje, engaged in real estate and insurance, "provide a certain section of the church in the rear to accommodate them, moving our own people farther to the front, and doubling up in the occupancy of pews, if necessary."
