t."

"Oh, I see," the young man said, "you would prefer to give your money
for the relief of the poor, for hospitals or children's homes, or
something like that. Is that so?"

"I don't know as there's any reason for me givin' up the money I work
hard for." Sam was touched on a vital spot.

"Well, I'll tell you the reason," the minister said; his voice was no
louder, but it fell with a sledge-hammer emphasis. He moved a step
nearer his companion, and some way caught and held his wavering vision.
"God owns one-tenth of all that stuff you call your own. You have
cheated Him out of His part all these years, and He has carried you
over from year to year, hoping that you will pay up without harsh
proceedings. You are a rich man in this world's goods, but your soul is
lean and hungry and naked. Selfishness and greed have blinded your
eyes. If you could see what a contemptible, good-for-nothing creature
you are in God's sight, you would call on the hills to fall on you.
Why, man, I'd rather take my chances with the gambler, the felon, the
drunkard, than with you. They may have fallen in a moment of strong
temptation; but you are a respectable man merely because it costs money
to be otherwise. The Lord can do without your money. Do not think for a
minute that God's work will not go on. 'He shall have dominion from sea
to sea,' but what of you? You shall lie down and die like the dog. You
shall go out into outer darkness. The world will not be one bit better
because you have passed through it."

Sam was incoherent with rage. "See here," he sputtered, "what do you
know about it? I pay my debts. Everybody knows that."

"Hold on, hold on," the young man said gently, "you pay the debts that
the law compels you to pay. You have to pay your hired help and your
threshing bills, and all that, because you would be 'sued' if you
didn't. There is one debt that is left to a man's honour, the debt he
owes to God, and to the poor and the needy. Do you pay that debt?"

"Well, you'll never get a cent out of me anyway. You have a mighty poor
way of asking for money--maybe if you had taken me the right way you
might have got some."

"Excuse me, Mr. Motherwell," the young man replied with unaffected good
humour, "I did not ask you for money at all. I gave you back what you
did give. No member of our congregation will ask you for any, though
there may come a time when you will ask us to take it."

Sam Motherwell broke into a scornful laugh,