A Modern Idyll Part 3

All over the United States the besetting sin of the people was the desire of wealth. He traced the effects of the ign.o.ble struggle for gain in the degradation of character, in the debased tone of public and private life. The main current of existence being defiled, his duty was clear. Even more than other men he was pledged to resist the evil tendency of the time. In some ways, no doubt, he was as frail and faulty as the weakest of his hearers, but to fail in this respect would be, he thought, to prove himself unworthy of his position. That a servant of Christ in the nineteenth century should seek wealth, or allow it in any way to influence his conduct, appeared to him to be much the same unpardonable sin as cowardice in a soldier or dishonesty in a man of business. He could do but little to show what the words of his text meant to him, but one thing he could do and would do joyously. He would write to the good Deacons in Chicago to tell them that he intended to stay in Kansas City, and to labour on among the people whom he knew and loved, and some of whom, he believed, knew and loved him. He would not be tempted by the greater position offered to him or by the larger salary. "_For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; and whosoever will lose his life for My sake, shall find it_."

As his voice broke over the last words, there was scarcely a dry eye in the church. Many of the women were sobbing audibly, and Mrs. Hooper had long ago given up the attempt "to pull her tears down the back way." She expressed the general sentiment of her s.e.x when she said afterwards, "It was just too lovely for anythin'." And the men were scarcely less affected, though they were better able to control their emotion. The joyous renunciation of five thousand dollars a year struck these hard men of business as something almost uncanny. They would have considered it the acme of folly in an ordinary man, but in a preacher they felt vaguely that it was admirable.

When Deacon Hooper met his brother Deacons before the platform where the collection-plates were kept, he whispered, "The meetin' is at my house at three o'clock. Be on time." His tone was decided, as were also the nods which accepted the invitation.

After the service Mr. Letgood withdrew quietly without going, as usual, amongst his congregation. This pleased even Mrs. Farton, whose husband was a judge of the Supreme Court. She said: "It was elegant of him."

Mr. Hooper received the twelve Deacons in his drawing-room, and when the latest comer was seated, began:

"There ain't no need for me to tell you, brethren, why I asked you all to come round here this afternoon. After that sermon this mornin' I guess we're all sot upon showin' our minister that we appreciate him.

There are mighty few men with five thousand dollars a year who'd give up ten thousand. It seems to me a pretty good proof that a man's a Christian ef he'll do that. Tain't being merely a Christian: it's Christ-like. We must keep Mr. Letgood right here: he's the sort o' man we want. If they come from Chicago after him now, they'll be comin' from New York next, an' he oughtn't to be exposed to sich great temptation.

"I allow that we'll be able to raise the pew-rents from the first of January next, to bring in another two thousand five hundred dollars a year, and I propose that we Deacons should jest put our hands deep down in our pockets and give Mr. Let-good that much anyway for this year, and promise the same for the future. I'm willin', as senior Deacon, though not the richest, to start the list with three hundred dollars."

In five minutes the money was subscribed, and it was agreed that each man should pay in his contribution to the name of Mr. Hooper at the First National Bank next day; Mr. Hooper could then draw his cheque for the sum.

"Wall," said the Deacon, again getting up, "that's settled, but I've drawn that cheque already. Mrs. Hooper and me talked the thing over," he added half apologetically, and as if to explain his unbusinesslike rashness; "an' she thinks we oughter go right now to Mr. Letgood as a sort of surprise party an' tell him what we hev decided--that is, ef you're all agreed."

They were, although one or two objected to a "surprise party" being held on Sunday. But Deacon Hooper overruled the objection by saying that he could find no better _word_, though of course 'twas really not a "surprise party." After this explanation, some one proposed that Deacon Hooper should make the presentation, and that Mrs. Hooper should be asked to accompany them. When Mr. Hooper went into the dining-room to find, his wife she was already dressed to go out, and when he expressed surprise and delivered himself of his mission, she said simply:

"Why, I only dressed to go and see Mrs. Jones, who's ill, but I guess I'll go along with you first."

The same afternoon Mr. Letgood was seated in his study considering a sermon for the evening--it would have to be very different from that of the morning, he felt, or else it would fall flat.

He still avoided thinking of his position. The die was cast now, and having struggled hard against the temptation he tried to believe that he was not chiefly responsible. In the back of his mind was the knowledge that his responsibility would become clear to him some time or other, but he confined it in the furthest chamber of his brain with repentance as the guardian.

He had just decided that his evening address must be doctrinal and argumentative, when he became aware of steps in the drawing-room.

Opening the door he found himself face to face with his Deacons. Before he could speak, Deacon Hooper began:

"Mr. Letgood! We, the Deacons of your church, hev come to see you. We want to tell you how we appreciate your decision this mornin'. It was Christlike! And we're all proud of you, an' glad you're goin' to stay with us. But we allow that it ain't fair or to be expected that you should refuse ten thousand dollars a year with only five. So we've made a purse for this year among ourselves of two thousand five hundred dollars extry, which we hope you'll accept. Next year the pew-rents can be raised to bring in the same sum; anyway, it shall be made up.

"There ain't no use in talkin'; but you, sir, hev jest sot us an example of how one who loves the Lord Jesus, and Him only, should act, and we ain't goin' to remain far behind. No, sir, we ain't Thar's the cheque."

As he finished speaking, tears stood in the kind, honest, blue eyes.

Mr. Letgood took the cheque mechanically, and mechanically accepted at the same time the Deacon's outstretched hand; but his eyes sought Mrs.

Hooper's, who stood behind the knot of men with her handkerchief to her face. In a moment or two, recalled to himself by the fact that one after the other all the Deacons wanted to shake his hand, he tried to sustain his part in the ceremony. He said:

"My dear brothers, I thank you each and all, and accept your gift in the spirit in which you offer it. I need not say that I knew nothing of your intention when I preached this morning. It is not the money that I'm thinking of now, but your kindness. I thank you again."

After a few minutes' casual conversation, consisting chiefly of praise of the "wonderful discourse" of the morning, Mr. Letgood proposed that they should all have iced coffee with him; there was nothing so refres.h.i.+ng; he wanted them to try it; and though he was a bachelor, if Mrs. Hooper would kindly give her a.s.sistance and help him with his cook, he was sure they would enjoy a gla.s.s. With a smile she consented.

Stepping into the pa.s.sage after her and closing the door, he said hurriedly, with anger and suspicion in his voice:

"You didn't get this up as my answer? You didn't think I'd take money instead, did you?"

Demurely, Mrs. Hooper turned her head round as he spoke, and leaning against him while he put his arms round her waist, answered with arch reproach:

"You are just too silly for anythin'."

Then, with something like the movement of a cat loath to lose the contact of the caressing hand, she turned completely towards him and slowly lifted her eyes. Their lips met.

21 April. 1891.