impression whatever! The gifts, the benefactions of
Eldon Parr to his fellow-men would go on as before!

"You ask me why I sent for you," the banker went on. "It was primarily
because I hoped to impress upon you the folly of marrying my daughter.
And in spite of all the injury and injustice you have done me, I do not
forget that you were once in a relationship to me which has been unique
in my life. I trusted you, I admired you, for your ability, for your
faculty of getting on with men. At that time you were wise enough not
to attempt to pass comment upon accidents in business affairs which are,
if deplorable, inevitable."

Eldon Parr's voice gave a momentary sign of breaking.

"I will be frank with you. My son's death has led me, perhaps weakly,
to make one more appeal. You have ruined your career by these
chimerical, socialistic notions you have taken up, and which you mistake
for Christianity. As a practical man I can tell you, positively, that
St. John's will run downhill until you are bankrupt. The people who come
to you now are in search of a new sensation, and when that grows stale
they will fall away. Even if a respectable number remain in your
congregation, after this excitement and publicity have died down, I have
reason to know that it is impossible to support a large city church on
contributions. It has been tried again and again, and failed. You have
borrowed money for the Church's present needs. When that is gone I
predict that you will find it difficult to get more."

This had every indication of being a threat, but Hodder, out of sheer
curiosity, did not interrupt. And it was evident that the banker drew a
wrong conclusion from his silence, which he may actually have taken for
reluctant acquiescence. His tone grew more assertive.

"The Church, Mr. Hodder, cannot do without the substantial business men.
I have told the bishop so, but he is failing so rapidly from old age that
I might as well not have wasted my breath. He needs an assistant, a
suffragan or coadjutor, and I intend to make it my affair to see that he
gets one. When I remember him as he was ten years ago, I find it hard to
believe that he is touched with these fancies. To be charitable, it is
senile decay. He seems to forget what I have done for him, personally,
made up his salary, paid his expenses at different times, and no appeal
for the diocese to me was ever in vain. But again, I will let that go.

"What I am getting at is this. Yo