Their first sight of each other--Red and Black--was across the space which stretches between pulpit and pew. It’s sometimes a wide space, and impassable; again, it’s not far, and the lines of communication are always open. In this case, neither of them knew, as yet, just what the distance was. Black--Robert McPherson Black--if you want his full name, had been a bit nervous in the vestry where he put on his gown. He had been preaching only five years, and that in a Southern country parish, when a visiting committee of impressive looking men had come to listen to him--had come again--and once more--and then had startled him with a call to the big suburban town and the fine old, ivy-grown chur…
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