something for you, thinking that it would give you considerable
pleasure."

"I am not considering the amount of the cheque," Douglas replied, "but
something far more important. St. Margaret's is a rich church, is it
not?"

"Yes, I suppose so," was the reluctant assent.

"The richest in the city?"

"Yes. But what has that to do with that cheque?" Dr. Rannage angrily
retorted.

"It is heavily endowed, and there was a big surplus last Easter,
according to the Year Book," Douglas continued, unheeding his rector's
annoyance.

"We have good business men on the vestry," Dr. Rannage proudly
explained, "and that is the main reason why we are in such excellent
financial condition. They have been most careful to invest all moneys
where they bring in big returns."

"What did they give me this for, then?" Douglas asked as he held forth
the cheque. "It must have wrung their souls to part with one hundred
dollars for nothing."

"Oh, that was given merely out of appreciation for your good work in
the parish."

"Since when have they become appreciative?"

"Why, haven't they been always so?"

"If they were, they never showed any signs of it. It seemed to me just
the opposite, especially when I asked them for a few hundred dollars
last fall to rent a building as a shelter for the unfortunate on the
water-front. They told me pretty plainly what they thought of my
'new-fangled notion,' as they called it."

"They were merely cautious, that was all," Dr. Rannage defended. "As I
told you, they are all good business men, and they wished to be sure
that the investment would, ah----"

"Pay," Douglas assisted, as his rector hesitated. "Yes, that was just
it. They thought it wouldn't pay in dollars and cents, so they refused
to have anything to do with it. The return in lives helped and souls
saved did not trouble them in the least. But now, when they know that
I am going, perhaps they may have had a twinge of conscience; that is,
if they have any, and what they have given me is nothing more than
conscience money."

These words brought Dr. Rannage suddenly to his feet. He had always
prided himself upon his self-control, but such a charge made by any
man, especially a mere curate, was more than he could endure.

"What do you mean by talking that way?" he demanded. "Ever since you
entered this room you have been as ugly as----"

"The devil," Douglas assisted as Dr. Rannage paused. "You might as
well say it as thin