es twenty-six
dollars. Now, Mr. Nash, you're the largest contributor to my salary in
this neighbourhood. You gave twenty-six dollars last year--fifty cents a
week. It is a generous contribution, but I cannot take it any longer.
It is fortunate that my wife has saved up this money to buy a
sewing-machine, so that we can pay back your contribution in full."

He paused; no one of us spoke a word.

"Mr. Nash," he continued, and his face was good to see, "I am the
minister here. I am convinced that what the community needs is more of a
religious and social spirit, and I am going about getting it in the way
the Lord leads me."

At this I saw Mrs. Minister look up at her husband with such a light in
her eyes as any man might well barter his life for--I could not keep my
own eyes from pure beauty of it.

I knew too what this defiance meant. It meant that this little family
was placing its all upon the altar--even the pitiful coins for which
they had skimped and saved for months for a particular purpose. Talk of
the heroism of the men who charged with Pickett at Gettysburg! Here was
a courage higher and whiter than that; here was a courage that dared to
fight alone.

As for Mr. Nash, the face of that Chief Pharisee was a study. Nothing is
so paralyzing to a rich man as to find suddenly that his money will
no longer command him any advantage. Like all hard-shelled, practical
people, Mr. Nash could only dominate in a world which recognized the
same material supremacy that he recognized. Any one who insisted upon
flying was lost to Mr. Nash.

The minister pushed the little pile of coins toward him.

"Take it, Mr. Nash," said he.

At that Mr. Nash rose hastily.

"I will not," he said gruffly.

He paused, and looked at the minister with a strange expression in his
small round eyes--was it anger, or was it fear, or could it have been
admiration?

"If you want to waste your time on fiddlin' farmers' meetings--a man
that knows as little of farmin' as you do--why go ahead for all o' me.
But don't count me in."

He turned, reached for his hat, and then went out of the door into the
darkness.

For a moment we all sat perfectly silent, then the minister rose, and
said solemnly:

"Martha, let's sing something."

Martha crossed the room to the cottage organ and seated herself on the
stool.

"What shall we sing?" said she.

"Something with fight in it, Martha," he responded; "something with
plenty of fight in it."

S