tacles, he
had a high, dome-like forehead, and an ample light brown beard which he
stroked from time to time. It is probable that he did not believe in the
immortality of the soul.

His eyes twinkled as he rose.

"I don't pretend to be versed in theology, gentlemen, as you know," he
said, and the entire vestry, even Mr. Parr, smiled. For vestries, in
spite of black coats and the gravity of demeanour which first citizens
are apt to possess, are human after all. "Mr. Parr has stated, I
believe; the requirements, and I agree with him that it is not an easy
order to fill. You want a parson who will stick to his last, who will
not try experiments, who is not too high or too low or too broad or too
narrow, who has intellect without too much initiative, who can deliver
a good sermon to those who can appreciate one, and yet will not get the
church uncomfortably full of strangers and run you out of your pews. In
short, you want a level-headed clergyman about thirty-five years old who
will mind his own business."

The smiles on the faces of the vestry deepened. The ability to put a
matter thus humorously was a part of Nelson Langmaid's power with men
and juries.

"I venture to add another qualification," he continued, "and that is
virility. We don't want a bandbox rector. Well, I happen to have in mind
a young man who errs somewhat on the other side, and who looks a little
like a cliff profile I once saw on Lake George of George Washington
or an Indian chief, who stands about six feet two. He's a bachelor--if
that's a drawback. But I am not at all sure he can be induced to leave
his present parish, where he has been for ten years."

"I am," announced Wallis Plimpton, with his hands in his pockets,
"provided the right man tackles him."

III

Nelson Langmaid's most notable achievement, before he accomplished
the greater one of getting a new rector for St. John's, had been to
construct the "water-tight box" whereby the Consolidated Tractions
Company had become a law-proof possibility. But his was an esoteric
reputation,--the greater fame had been Eldon Parr's. Men's minds had
been dazzled by the breadth of the conception of scooping all the
street-car lines of the city, long and short, into one big basket, as it
were; and when the stock had been listed in New York, butcher and baker,
clerk and proprietor, widow and maid, brought out their hoardings; the
great project was discussed in clubs, cafes, and department stores,