'im a song an' dance story fur weeks. One day 'e sez to me,
sez 'e, 'Chum!'--well, say boys, when I went out an' had a luk at
meself, sez I, 'Ye dhirty loafer, if a man like dat calls y' "chum,"
why don't y' take a brace an' get on de dead level?' So I did an' I've
been on de dead level ever since--ain't I, boss?"

I was able to place Dave as janitor of the church. After he had been
there for a while and comfortably housed in the janitor's quarters in
the basement, he thought it a propitious time to be reconciled to his
wife; so we arranged to have Mary come down and inspect the place. We
put extra work into the cleaning of the quarters, furnishing it with
some sticks of furniture. Reconciliations were getting to be an old
story with Mary, and Dave knew he was going to have difficulty in this
new attempt. He finally persuaded her to make a visit to the church.
When he was ready, Dave, in a most apologetic tone, said:

"There is just one thing lacking here."

"What is it Dave?"

"A white tie."

"Where?"

"On you."

The white tie as ecclesiastical appendage I had avoided. I despised
it. But Dave assured me that if Mary came down to look the church
over, she would be more interested in my appearance than in the
appearance of the church, because what she really wanted was an
assurance that Dave was "on the square!" and if he could introduce
her to a real minister as his friend, it would enhance his chance.

I sent Dave to the Bowery for a five cent white string tie, and I
borrowed a Prince Albert coat. There was an old stovepipe hat in the
church--sort of legacy from former pastorates--and it was trotted out,
carefully brushed and put on the study table. Then Mary appeared! Dave
had instructed me to put up a "tall talk," so I put up the tallest
possible. Mary inspected the church, the quarters and the minister;
then she looked at Dave and said in an undertone--"This looks on the
level."

"You bet your sweet life!" Dave said.

So Mary was installed as "the lady of the temple" at Sixty-one Henry
Street, and for seven years ministered to the poor and the needy, and
kept in order the House of God. After her death, Dave remained at the
church about a year; then he became my successor as missionary to the
lodging houses on the Bowery, where he still works--a sort of humble
doctor of the humanities; feeding the hungry, clothing the naked,
comforting men in despair.

It seemed to me at that time that what a weak chur