ened his eyes.

But when he opened them the world had already passed on, and left him
behind.

CHAPTER SEVEN: The Ministrations of the Rev. Uttermust Dumfarthing

"Well, then, gentlemen, I think we have all agreed upon our man?"

Mr. Dick Overend looked around the table as he spoke at the managing
trustees of St. Osoph's church. They were assembled in an upper
committee room of the Mausoleum Club. Their official place of meeting
was in a board room off the vestry of the church. But they had felt a
draught in it, some four years ago, which had wafted them over to the
club as their place of assembly. In the club there were no draughts.

Mr. Dick Overend sat at the head of the table, his brother George
beside him, and Dr. Boomer at the foot. Beside them were Mr. Boulder,
Mr. Skinyer (of Skinyer and Beatem) and the rest of the trustees.

"You are agreed, then, on the Reverend Uttermust Dumfarthing?"

"Quite agreed," murmured several trustees together.

"A most remarkable man," said Dr. Boomer. "I heard him preach in his
present church. He gave utterance to thoughts that I have myself been
thinking for years. I never listened to anything so sound or so
scholarly."

"I heard him the night he preached in New York," said Mr. Boulder. "He
preached a sermon to the poor. He told them they were no good. I never
heard, outside of a Scotch pulpit, such splendid invective."

"Is he Scotch?" said one of the trustees.

"Of Scotch parentage," said the university president. "I believe he is
one of the Dumfarthings of Dunfermline, Dumfries."

Everybody said "Oh," and there was a pause.

"Is he married?" asked one of the trustees. "I understand," answered
Dr. Boomer, "that he is a widower with one child, a little girl."

"Does he make any conditions?"

"None whatever," said the chairman, consulting a letter before him,
"except that he is to have absolute control, and in regard to salary.
These two points settled, he says, he places himself entirely in our
hands."

"And the salary?" asked someone.

"Ten thousand dollars," said the chairman, "payable quarterly in
advance."

A chorus of approval went round the table. "Good," "Excellent," "A
first-class man," muttered the trustees, "just what we want."

"I am sure, gentlemen," said Mr. Dick Overend, voicing the sentiments
of everybody, "we do _not_ want a cheap man. Several of the candidates
whose names have been under consideration here have been in many
respects--i