by Rob Summers
Chapter 38 Secretary Confusion
During the next few days, Pride had the odd feeling that he was about to do something fatally stupid. He was not afraid of missing his cousin’s wedding, for considering the impression he intended to make at Mammon, he would be wise to do so. Rather, he had an unexplainable fear that he would somehow miss giving his acceptance speech. As in a dream, he saw himself rising Sunday morning, becoming involved in the thousand details of the wedding, and somehow never going to the Mammon Church at all. Why he was having such thoughts, he could not say, but he felt oppressed, almost frightened. Something was deeply wrong.
He thought it best to make firm the arrangements to both deliver the speech and attend the wedding. That way he could not go wrong. No one could blame him. Everyone would be satisfied. So on Thursday afternoon, while relaxing in the library, he called the Mammon Church. He was surprised to hear a familiar female voice answer.
“Mammon Mart Community Church, ‘adapting Christ to your needs.’ May I help you?”
“Confusion! Is that Confusion?”
“Yes, I’m Miss Confusion, the church secretary. May I ask who’s calling?”
“This is Pride. What are you doing there?”
“I believe I said that I’m the church secretary. What is your business, Mr. Pride?”
“Well, I guess you needed to get a job somewhere. Uh, I need to talk to the pastor. Is he in?”
“No, he isn’t. May I take a message?”
“Yes. Will you ask him to have my acceptance speech moved forward in the Sunday morning service to as early as possible?”
“Certainly.”
“Thank you. And will you have him call me back if there’s any difficulty?”
“Of course.”
“Uh, you are writing this down, aren’t you?”
“That isn’t necessary.”
Knowing Confusion as he did, Pride paused nervously. “Pardon me, but this is very important. Could you repeat the message back to me?”
“Yes, you want the pastor to call you about changing the time of the service.”
“No—no that’s not it. Will you please write this down?”
“If you insist.”
He repeated the message slowly and then hung up. Glumly, he looked around the dusky library, wondering whether Hypocrisy would find a change in his service convenient. He did not want to annoy the man who would be overseeing his career.
Old Conscience puttered into the room and began to browse the philosophy shelf. After some fussing, he selected a volume of Jonathan Edwards and took it to the window for more light, all the time casting glances at Pride.
“Not feeling well, sir?” he asked.
Pride mumbled that he was feeling well enough.
“Pardon me, but it’s rumored about the house that you won’t be here for the wedding. I feel it’s my duty to remind you what a breach of familial duties that would be. Reason is distraught. Also, your standing with Mr. Grace is none to solid, so it won’t do to offend him that way.”
Pride made a disgusted sound.
“Actually, attending that other so-called church at all is a mistake, but especially if you miss the wedding.”
“Thank you, Conscience. I can always count on you to be tolerant and understanding.”
“It is not my business to be tolerant, but to be of service.”
“And I suppose you think I should just abandon Vainglory?”
The old man’s face was answer enough.
“You’ve never been in love,” said Pride, pointing at him. “How can you have the nerve to judge me? And them too! So-called church, indeed!”
Pride rose nervously and stalked about. “Places like that never get any better unless someone like me joins up and works for change from within.”
The old man looked at him coolly. “You’re a sorry, little fish,” he said. “And you’ll be swallowed alive.”
