“Dr. Vince is at lunch,” said the maid who answered the bell.
“Please tell him I must see him at once,” said Samuel. “It's something very important.”
He went in and sat down in the library, and the doctor came, looking anxious. “What is it now?” he asked.
And Samuel turned to him a face of anguish. “Doctor,” he said, “I've just had a terrible experience.”
“What is it, Samuel?”
“I hardly know how to tell you,” said the boy. “I know a man—a very wicked man; and I went to him to try to convert him, and to bring him into the church. And he laughed at me, and at the church, too. He said there are wicked men in it—in St. Matthew's, Dr. Vince! He told me who they are, and what they are doing! And, doctor—I can't believe that you know about it—that you would let such things go on!”
The other was staring at him in alarm. “My dear boy,” he said, “there are many wicked men in the world, and I cannot know everything.”
“Ah, but this is terrible, doctor! You will have to find out about it—you cannot let such men stay in the church.”
The other rose and closed the door of his study. Then he drew his chair close to Samuel. “Now,” he said, “what is it?”
“It's Mr. Wygant,” said Samuel.
“Mr. Wygant!” cried the other in dismay.
“Yes, Dr. Vince.”
“What has he done?”
“Did you know that it was he who beat the child-labor bill—that he named the State senator on purpose to do it?”
The doctor was staring at him. “The child-labor bill!” he gasped. “Is THAT what you mean?”
“Yes, Dr. Vince,” said Samuel. “Surely you didn't know that!”
“Why, I know that Mr. Wygant is very much opposed to the bill. He has opposed it openly. He has a perfect right to do that, hasn't he?”'
“But to name the State senator to beat it, doctor!”
“Well, my boy, Mr. Wygant is very much interested in politics; and, of course, he would use his influence. Why not?”
“But, Dr. Vince—it was a wicked thing! Think of Sophie!”
“But, my boy—haven't we found Sophie a place in Mr. Wygant's own home?”
“Yes, doctor! But there are all the others! Think of the suffering and misery in that dreadful mill! And Mr. Wygant pays such low wages. And he is such a rich man—he might help the children if he would.”
“Really, Samuel—” began the doctor.
But the boy, seeing the frown of displeasure on his face, rushed on swiftly. “That's only the beginning! Listen to me! There's Mr. Hickman!”
“Mr. Hickman!”
“Mr. Henry Hickman, the lawyer. He has done even worse things—”
And suddenly the clergyman clenched his hands. “Really, Samuel!” he cried. “This is too much! You are exceeding all patience!”
“Doctor!” exclaimed the boy in anguish.
“It seems to me,” the doctor continued, “that you owe it to me to consider more carefully. You have been treated very kindly here—you have been favored in more ways than one.”
“But what has that to do with it?” cried the other wildly.
“It is necessary that you should remember your place. It is certainly not becoming for you, a mere boy, and filling a subordinate position, to come to me with gossip concerning the vestry of my church.”
“A subordinate position!” echoed Samuel dazed. “But what has my position to do with it?”
“It has a great deal to do with it, Samuel.”
The boy was staring at him. “You don't understand me!” he cried. “I am not doing this for myself! I am not setting myself up! I am thinking of the saving of the church!”
“What do you mean—saving the church?”
“Why, doctor—just see! I went to reform a man; and he sneered at me. He would not have anything to do with the church, because such wicked men as Mr. Hickman were in it. He said it was their money that saved them from exposure—he said—”
“What has Mr. Hickman done?” demanded the other quickly.
“He bribed the city council, sir! He bribed it to beat the water bill.”
Dr. Vince got up from his chair and began to pace the floor nervously. “Tell me, doctor!” cried Samuel. “Please tell me! Surely you didn't know that!”
The other turned to him suddenly. “I don't think you quite realize the circumstances,” said he. “You come to me with this tale about Mr. Hickman. Do you know that he is my brother-in-law?”
Samuel clutched the arms of his chair and stared aghast. “Your brother-in-law!” he gasped.
“Yes,” said the other. “He is my wife's only brother.”
Samuel was dumb with dismay. And the doctor continued to pace the floor. “You see,” he said, “the position you put me in.”
“Yes,” said the boy. “I see. It's very terrible.” But then he rushed on in dreadful anxiety: “But, doctor, you didn't know it. Oh, I'm sure—please tell me that you didn't know it!”
“I didn't know it!” exclaimed the doctor. “And what is more, I don't know it now! I have heard these rumors, of course. Mr. Hickman is a man of vast responsibilities, and he has many enemies. Am I to believe every tale that I hear about him?”
“No,” said Samuel, taken aback. “But this is something that everyone knows.”
“Everyone!” cried the other. “Who is everyone? Who told it to you?”
“I—I can't tell,” stammered the boy.
“How does he know it?” continued the doctor. “And what sort of a man is he? Is he a good man?”
“No,” admitted Samuel weakly. “I am afraid he is not.”
“Is he a man who loves and serves others? A man who never speaks falsehood—whom you would believe in a matter that involved your dearest friends? Would believe him if he told you that I was a briber and a scoundrel?”
Samuel was obliged to admit that Charlie Swift was not a man like that. “Dr. Vince,” he said quickly, “I admit that I am at fault. I have come to you too soon. I will find out about these things; and if they are true, I will prove them to you. If they are not, I will go away in shame, and never come to trouble you again as long as I live.”
Samuel said this very humbly; and yet there was a note of grim resolution in his voice—which the doctor did not fail to note. “But, Samuel!” he protested. “Why—why should you meddle in these things?”
“Meddle in them!” exclaimed the other. “Surely, if they are true, I have to. You don't mean that if they were proven, you would let such men remain in your church?”
“I don't think,” said the doctor gravely, “that I can say what I should do in case of anything so terrible.”
“No,” was Samuel's reply, “you are right. The first thing is to find out the truth.”
And so Samuel took his departure.
He went straight to his friend Finnegan.
“Hello!” exclaimed Finnegan. Then, “What about that job of mine?” he asked with a broad grin.
“Dr. Vince says he will look out for you,” was the boy's reply. “But I'm not ready to talk about that yet. There's something else come up.”
He waited until his friend had attended to the wants of a customer, and until the customer had consumed a glass of beer and departed. Then he called the bartender into a corner.
“Mr. Finnegan,” he said, “I want to know something very important.”
“What is it?” asked the other.
“Do you know Mr. Hickman—Henry Hickman, the lawyer?”
“He's not on my calling list,” said Finnegan. “I know him by sight.”
“I've heard it said that he had something to do with beating a water bill in the city council. Did he?”
“You bet your life he did!” said the bartender with a grin.
“Is it true that he bought up the council?”
“You bet your life it's true!”
“And is it true that Mr. Callahan got some of the money?”
Finnegan glanced at the other suspiciously. “Say,” he said, “what's all this about, anyhow?”
“Listen,” said Samuel gravely. “You know that Mr. Hickman is a member of my church. And he's Dr. Vince's brother-in-law, which makes it more complicated yet. Dr. Vince has heard these terrible stories, and you can see how awkward it is for him. He cannot let such evil-doers go unrebuked.”
“Gee!” said the other. “What's he going to do?”
“I don't know,” said Samuel. “He hasn't told me that. First, you see, he has to be sure that the thing is true. And, of course, Mr. Hickman wouldn't tell.”
“No,” said Finnegan. “Hardly!”
“And it isn't easy for the doctor to find out. You see—he's a clergyman, and he only meets good people. But I told him I would find out for him.”
“I see,” said Finnegan.
“What I want,” said the boy, “is to be able to tell him that I heard it from the lips of one of the men who got the money. I won't have to say who it is—he'll take my word for that. Do you suppose Mr. Callahan would talk about it?”
The bartender thought for a moment. “You wait here,” he said. “The boss has only stepped round the corner; and perhaps I can get the doctor what he wants.”
So Samuel sat down and waited; and in a few minutes John Callahan came in. He was a thick-set and red-faced Irishman, good-natured and pleasant looking-not at all like the desperado Samuel had imagined.
“Say, John,” said Finnegan. “This boy here used to work for Bertie Lockman; and he's got a girl works for the Wygants.”
“So!” said Callahan.
“And what do you think,” went on the other, “He heard old Henry Hickman talking—he says you fellows held him up on that water bill.”
“Go on!” said Callahan. “Did he say that?”
“He did,” said Finnegan, without giving Samuel a chance to reply.
“Well,” said the other, “he's a damned liar, and he knows it. It was a dead straight proposition, and we hadn't a thing to do with it. There was an independent water company that wanted a franchise—and it would have given the city its water for just half. Every time I pay my water bill I am sorry I didn't hold out. It would have been cheaper for me in the end.”
“He says it cost him sixty thousand,” remarked Finnegan.
“Maybe,” said the other. “You can't tell what the organization got. All I know is that ten of us fellows in the council got two thousand apiece out of it.”
There was a pause. Samuel was listening with his hands clenched tightly.
“Did he pay it to you himself?” asked Finnegan.
“Who, Hickman? No, he paid it to Slattery, and Slattery came here from his office. Why, is he trying to crawl out of that part of it?”
“No, not exactly. But he makes a great fuss about being held up.”
“Yes!” said Callahan. “I dare say! He's got his new franchise, and he and the Lockman estate are clearing about ten thousand a month out of it. And my two thousand was gone the week I got it—it had cost me twice that to get elected—and without counting the free drinks. It's a great graft, being a supervisor, ain't it?”
“Why did you do it then?” asked Samuel in a faint voice.
“I'll never do it again, young fellow,” said the saloon keeper. “I'm the Honorable John for the rest of my life, and I guess that'll do me. And the next time old Henry Hickman wants his dirty work done, he can hunt up somebody that needs the money more than me!”
Then the Honorable John went on to discuss the politics of Lockmanville, and to lay bare the shameless and grotesque corruption in a town where business interests were fighting. The trouble was, apparently, that the people were beginning to rebel—they were tired of being robbed in so many different ways, and they went to the polls to find redress. And time and again, after they had elected new men to carry out their will, the great concerns had stepped in and bought out the law-makers. The last time it had been the unions that made the trouble; and three of the last supervisors had been labor leaders—“the worst skates of all,” as Callahan phrased it.
Samuel listened, while one by one the last of his illusions were torn to shreds. There had been a general scramble to get favors from the new government of the town; and the scramblers seemed to include every pious and respectable member of St. Matthew's whose name Samuel had ever heard. There was old Mr. Curtis, another of the vestrymen, who passed the plate every Sunday morning, and looked like a study of the Olympian Jove. He wanted to pile boxes on the sidewalks in front of his warehouse, and he had come to Slattery and paid him two hundred dollars.
“And Mr. Wygant!” exclaimed Samuel, as a sudden thought came to him. “Is it true that he is back of the organization?”
“Good God!” laughed Callahan. “Did you hear him say that?”
“Some one else told me,” was the reply.
“Well,” said the other, “the truth is that Wygant got cold feet before the election, and he came to Slattery and fixed it. I know that, for Slattery told me. We had him bluffed clean—I don't think we'd ever have got in at all if it hadn't been for his money.”
“I see!” whispered the boy.
“Oh, he's a smooth guy!” laughed the saloon keeper. “Look at that new franchise got for his trolley road—ninety-nine years, and anything he wants in the meantime! And then to hear him making reform speeches! That's what makes me mad about them fellows up on the hill. They get a thousand dollars for every one we get; but they are tip-top swells, and they wouldn't speak to one of us low grafters on the street. And they're eminent citizens and pillars of the church—wouldn't it make you sick?”
“Yes,” said Samuel in a low voice, “that's just what it does. It makes me sick!”
Samuel now had his evidence; and he went straight back to Dr. Vince. “Doctor,” he said, “I am able to tell you that I know. I have heard it from one of the men who got the money.”
“Who is he?” asked the doctor.
“I could not tell you that,” said the boy—“it would not be fair. But you know that I am telling the truth. And this man told me with his own lips that Mr. Hickman paid twenty thousand dollars to Slattery, the Democratic boss, to be paid to ten of the supervisors to vote against the other company's water bill.”
There was a long pause; the doctor sat staring in front of him. “What do you want me to do?” he asked faintly.
“I don't know,” said Samuel. “Is it for me to tell you what is right?”
And again there was a pause.
“My boy,” said the doctor, “this is a terrible thing for me. Mr. Hickman is my wife's brother, and she loves him very dearly. And he is a very good friend of mine—I depend on him in all the business matters of the church.
“Yes,” said Samuel. “But he bribed the city council.”
“This thing would make a frightful scandal if it were known,” the other went on. “Think what a terrible thing it would be for St. Matthew's!”
“It is much worse as it is,” said the boy. “For people hear the story, and they say that the church is sheltering evil doers.”
“Think what a burden you place upon me!” cried the clergyman in distress. “A member of my own family!”
“It is just as hard for me,” said Samuel quickly.
“In what way?”
“On account of Mr. Wygant, sir.”
“What of that?”
Samuel had meant to say—“He is to be my father-in-law.” But at the last moment some instinct told him that it might be best to let Miss Gladys make that announcement at her own time. So instead he said, “I am thinking of Sophie.”
“It is not quite the same,” said the doctor; and then he repeated his question, “What do you want me to do?”
“Truly, I don't know!” protested the boy. “I am groping about to find what is right.”
“But you must have some idea in coming to me!” exclaimed the other anxiously. “Do you want me to expose my brother-in-law and drive him from the church?”
“I suppose,” said Samuel gravely, “that he would be sent to prison. But I certainly don't think that he should be driven from the church at least not unless he is unrepentant. First of all we should labor with him, I think.”
“And threaten him with exposure?”
“I'll tell you, doctor,” said the boy quickly. “I've been thinking about this very hard; and I don't think it would do much good to expose and punish any one. That only leads to bitterness and hatred—and we oughtn't to hate any person, you know.”
“Ah!” said the doctor with relief.
“The point is, the wicked thing that's been done. It's this robbing of the people that must be stopped! And it's the things that have been stolen!—Let me give you an example. To-day I met the man who came here with me to rob your house; and I learned for the first time that he had carried off some of your silver.”
“Yes,” said the other.
“And the man asked me to say nothing about what he had done, and I promised. I felt about him just as you do about your brother-in-law—I wouldn't denounce him and put him in jail. But I saw right away that I must do one thing—I must make him return the things he had stolen! That was right, was it not, doctor?”
“Yes,” said Dr. Vince promptly, “that was right.”
“Very well,” said the boy; “and the same thing is true about Mr. Hickman. He has robbed the people. He has got a franchise that enables him and the Lockman estate to make about ten thousand dollars a month out of the public. And they must give up that franchise! They must give up every dollar that they have made out of it! That is the whole story as I see it—nothing else counts but that. You can make all the fuss you want about bribery and graft, but you haven't accomplished anything unless you get back the stolen money.”
There was a pause. “Don't you see what I mean, doctor?” asked Samuel.
“Yes,” was the reply, “I see.”
“Well?” said Samuel.
“It would be no use to try it,” said the doctor. “They would never do it.”
“They wouldn't?”
“No. Nothing in the world could make them do it.”
“Not even if we threatened to denounce them?”
“No; not even then.”
“Not even if we put them in jail?”
Dr. Vince made no reply. The other sat waiting. And then suddenly he said in a low voice, “Doctor, I mean to MAKE them give it up. I see it quite clearly now—that is my duty. They must give it up!”
Again there was silence.
“Dr. Vince,” cried the boy in a voice of pain, “you surely mean to help me!”
And suddenly the doctor shut his lips together tightly. “No, Samuel,” he said. “I do not!”
The boy sat dumb. He felt a kind of faintness come over him. “You will leave me all alone?” he said in a weak voice.
The other made no reply.
“Am I not right?” cried the boy wildly. “Have I not spoken the truth?”
“I don't know,” the doctor answered. “It is too hard a question for me to answer. I only know that I do not feel such things to be in my province; and I will not have anything to do with them.”
“But, doctor, you are the representative of the church!”
“Yes. And I must attend to the affairs of the church.”
“But is it no affair of the church that the people are being robbed?”
There was no reply.
“You give out charity!” protested Samuel.
“You pretend to try to help the poor! And I bring you cases, and you confess that you can't help them—because there are too many. And you couldn't tell how it came to be. But here I show you—I prove to you what makes the people poor! They are being robbed—they are being trampled upon! Their own government has been stolen from them, and is being used to cheat them! And you won't lift your voice to help!”
“There is nothing that I can do, Samuel!” cried the clergyman wildly.
“But there is! There is! You won't try! You might at least withdraw your help from these criminals!”
“My HELP!”
“Yes, sir! You help them! You permit them to stay in the church, and that gives them your sanction! You shelter them, and save them from attack! If I were to go out to-morrow and try to open the eyes of the people, no one would listen to me, because these men are so respectable—because they are members of the church, and friends and relatives of yours!”
“Samuel!” exclaimed the clergyman.
“And worse than that, sir! You take their money—you let the church become dependent upon them! You told me that yourself, sir! And you give their money to the poor people—the very people they have robbed! And that blinds the people—they are grateful, and they don't understand! And so you help to keep them in their chains! Don't you see that, Dr. Vince?—why, it's just the same as if you were hired for that purpose!”
Dr. Vince had risen in agitation. “Really, Samuel!” he cried. “You have exceeded the limit of endurance. This cannot go on! I will not hear another word of it!”
Samuel sat, heart broken. “Then you are going to desert me!” he exclaimed. “You are going to make me do it alone.”
The other stared. “What are you going to do?” he demanded.
“First,” said Samuel, “I am going to see these men. I am going to give them a chance to see the error of their ways.”
“Boy!” cried the doctor. “You are mad!”
“Perhaps I am,” was the reply. “But how can I help that?”
“At least,” exclaimed the other, “if you take any such step, you will make it clear to them thatIhave not sent you, and that you have no sanction from me.”
For a long time Samuel made no reply to this. Somehow it seemed the most unworthy thing that his friend had said yet. It meant that Dr. Vince was a coward!
“No, sir,” he said at last, “you may rest easy about that. I will take the whole burden on my own shoulders. There's no reason why I should trouble you any more, I think.”
And with that he rose, and went out from the house.
After Samuel had left Dr. Vince, a great wave of desolation swept over him. He was alone again, and all the world was against him!
For a moment he had an impulse to turn back. After all, he was only a boy; and who was he, to set himself up against the wise and great? But then like a stab, came again the thought which drove him always—the thought of the people, suffering and starving! Truly it was better to die than to live in a world in which there was so much misery and oppression! That was the truth, he would rather die than let these things go on unopposed. And so there could be no turning back-there was nothing for him save to do what he could.
Where should he begin? He thought of Mr. Hickman—a most unpromising person to work with. Samuel had been afraid of him from the first time he had seen him.
Then he thought of Mr. Wygant; should he begin with him? This brought to his mind something which had been driven away by the rush of events. Miss Gladys! How would she take these things? And what would she think when she learned about her father's wickedness?
A new idea came to Samuel. Why should he not take Miss Gladys into his confidence? She would be the one to help him. She had helped him with Sophie; and she had promised to help with Master Albert. And surely it was her right to know about matters which concerned her family so nearly. She would know what was best, so far as concerned her own father; he would take her advice as to how to approach him.
He went to the house and asked for Sophie.
“Tell Miss Gladys that I want to see her,” he said; “and that it's something very, very important.”
So Sophie went away, and returning, took him upstairs.
“Samuel,” said his divinity, “it isn't safe for you to come to see me in the afternoons.”
“Yes, Miss Gladys,” said he. “But this is something very serious. It's got nothing to do with myself.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“It's your father, Miss Gladys.”
“My father?”
“Yes, Miss Gladys. It's a long story. I shall have to begin at the beginning.”
So he told the story of his coming to the church, and of the fervor which had seized upon him, and how he had set to work to bring converts into the fold; and how he had met a wicked man who had resisted his faith, and of all the dreadful things which this man had said. When he came to what Charlie Swift had told about her own father, Samuel was disposed to expurgate the story; but Miss Gladys would have it all, and seemed even to be disappointed that he had not more details to give her.
“And Hickman!” she exclaimed gleefully. “I always knew he was an old scamp! I'll wager you haven't found out the hundredth part about him, Samuel!”
Samuel went on to tell about the revelation at Callahan's.
“And you took that to Dr. Vince!” she cried amazed.
“Yes,” said he.
“And what did he say?”
“He wouldn't have anything to do with it. And so it's all left to me.”
“And what are you going to do now?”
“I don't know, Miss Gladys. For one thing, I think I shall have to see your father.”
“See my father!” gasped the girl.
“Yes, Miss Gladys.”
“But what for?”
“To try to get him to see how wicked these things are.”
The other was staring at him with wide-open, startled eyes. “Do you mean,” she cried, “that you want to go to my father and talk to him about what he's doing in politics?”
“Why, yes, Miss Gladys—what else can I do?”
And Miss Gladys took out her handkerchief, and leaned down upon the table, hiding her face. She was overcome with some emotion, the nature of which was not apparent.
The boy was naturally alarmed. “Miss Gladys!” he cried. “You aren't angry with me?”
She answered, in a muffled voice, “No, Samuel—no!”
Then she looked up, her face somewhat red. “Go and see him, Samuel!” she said.
“You don't mind?” he cried anxiously.
“No, not in the least,” she said. “Go right ahead and see what you can do. He's a very bad, worldly man; and if you can soften his heart, it will be the best thing for all of us.”
“And it won't make any difference in our relationship?” he asked.
“In our relationship?” she repeated; and then, “Not in the least. But mind, of course, don't say anything about that to him. Don't give him any idea that you know me!”
“Of course not, Miss Gladys.”
“Tell him that you come from the church. And give it to him good and hard, Samuel—for I'm sure he's done everything you told me, and lots that is worse.”
“Miss Gladys!” gasped the other.
“And mind, Samuel!” she added. “Come and tell me about it afterwards. Perhaps I can advise you what to do next.”
There was a pause, while the two looked at each other. And then in a sudden burst of emotion Miss Gladys exclaimed, “Oh, Samuel, you are an angel!”
And she broke into a peal of laughter; and swiftly, like a bird upon the wing, she leaned toward him, and touched his cheek with her lips. And then, like a flash, she was gone; and Samuel was left alone with his bewilderment.
Samuel set out forthwith for Mr. Wygant's office. But just before he came to the bridge Mr. Wygant's automobile flashed past him; and so he turned and went back to the house.
This time he went to the front door. “I am Samuel Prescott, from St. Matthew's Church,” he said to the butler. “And I want to see Mr. Wygant upon important business.”
Mr. Wygant sat in a great armchair by one of the windows in his library. About him was the most elaborate collection of books that Samuel had yet seen; and in the luxurious room was an atmosphere of profound and age-long calm. Mr. Wygant himself was tall and stately, with an indescribable air of exclusiveness and reserve.
Samuel clenched his hands and rushed at once to the attack. “I am Samuel Prescott, the sexton's boy at the church,” he said; “and I have to talk to you about something very, VERY serious.”
“Well?” said Mr. Wygant.
Then Samuel told yet again how he had been led into evil ways, and how he had been converted by Dr. Vince. He told the story in detail, so that the other might comprehend his fervor. Then he told of the converts he had made, and how at last he had encountered Charlie Swift. “And this man would not come into the church,” he wound up, “because of the wicked people who are in it.”
The other had been listening with perplexed interest. “Who are these people?” he asked.
“Yourself for one,” said Samuel.
Mr. Wygant started. “Myself!” he exclaimed. “What have I done?”
“For one thing,” replied Samuel, “you work little children in your mill, and you named the State senator to beat the child-labor bill. And for another, you make speeches and pose as a political reformer, while you are paying money to Slattery, so that he will give you franchises.”
There was a silence, while Mr. Wygant got back his breath. “Young man,” he cried at last, “this is a most incredible piece of impertinence!”
And suddenly the boy started toward him, stretching out his arms. “Mr. Wygant!” he cried. “You are going to be angry with me! But I beg you not to harden your heart! I have come here for your own good! I came because I couldn't bear to know that such things are done by a member of St. Matthew's Church!”
For a moment or two Mr. Wygant sat staring. “Let me ask you one thing,” he said. “Does Dr. Vince know about this?”
“I went to Dr. Vince about it first,” replied Samuel. “And he wouldn't do anything about it. He said that if I came to you, I must make it clear that he did not approve of it. I have come of my own free will, sir.”
There was another pause. “You are going to be angry with me!” cried Samuel, again.
“No,” said the other, “I will not be angry—because you are nothing but a child, and you don't know what you are doing.”
“Oh!” said Samuel.
“You are very much in need of a little knowledge of life,” added the other.
“But, Mr. Wygant,” exclaimed the boy, “the things I have said are true!”
“They are true—after a fashion,” was the reply.
“And they are very wrong things!”
“They seem so to you. That is because you know so little about such matters.”
“You are corrupting the government of your country, Mr. Wygant!”
“The government of my country, as you call it, consisting of a number of blackmailing politicians, who exist to prey upon the business I represent.”
There was a pause. “You see, young man,” said Mr. Wygant, “I have many responsibilities upon my shoulders—many interests looking to me for protection. And it is as if I were surrounded by a pack of wolves.”
“But meantime,” cried Samuel, “what is becoming of free government?”
“I do not know,” the other replied. “I sometimes think that unless the people reform, free government will soon come to an end.”
“But what are the people to do, sir?”
“They are to elect honest men, with whom one can do business—instead of the peasant saloon keepers and blatherskite labor leaders whom they choose at present.”
Samuel thought for a moment. “Men with whom one can do business,” he said—“but what kind of business do you want to do?”
“How do you mean?” asked the other.
“You went to those politicians and got a franchise that will let you tax the people whatever you please for ninety-nine years. And do you think that was good business for the people?”
There was no reply to this.
“And how much of the property you are protecting was made in such ways as that, sir?”
A frown had come upon Mr. Wygant's forehead. But no one could gaze into Samuel's agonized face and remain angry.
“Young man,” said he. “I can only tell you again that you do not know the world. If I should step out, would things be any different? The franchises would go to some other crowd—that is all. It is the competition of capital.”
“The competition of capital,” reflected the boy. “In other words, there is a scramble for money, and you get what you can!”
“You may put it that way, sir.”
“And you think that your responsibility ends when you've got a share for your crowd!”
“Yes—I suppose that is it.”
There was a pause. “I see perfectly,” said Samuel, in a low voice. “There's only one thing I can't understand.”
“What is that?”
“Why you should belong to the church, sir? What has this money scramble to do with the teaching of Jesus?”
And then Samuel saw that he had overstepped the mark. “Really, young man,” said Mr. Wygant, “I cannot see what is to be gained by pursuing this conversation.”
“But, sir, you are degrading the church!”
“The subject must be dropped!” said Mr. Wygant sternly. “You are presuming upon my good nature. You are forgetting your place.”
“I have been reminded of my place before,” said Samuel, in a suppressed voice. “But I do not know what my place is.”
“That is quite evident,” responded the other. “It is your place to do your work, and be respectful to your superiors, and keep your opinions to yourself.”
“I see that you will get angry with me,” said the boy, “I can't make you understand—I am only trying to find the truth. I want to do what's right, Mr. Wygant!”
“I suppose you do,” began the other—
“I want to understand, sir—just what is it that makes another person my superior?”
“People who are older than you, and who are wiser—”
“But is it age and wisdom, Mr. Wygant? I worked for Master Albert Lockman, and he's hardly any older than I. And yet he was my superior!”
“Yes,” admitted the other—
“And in spite of the wicked life that he's leading, sir!”
“What!”
“Yes, Mr. Wygant—he's drinking, and going with bad women. And yet he is my superior.”
“Ahem!” said Mr. Wygant.
“Isn't it simply that he has got a lot of money?” pursued Samuel relentlessly.
Mr. Wygant did not reply.
“And isn't my 'place' simply the fact that I haven't any money at all?”
Again there was no reply.
“And yet, I see the truth, and I have to speak it! And how can I get to a 'place' where I may?”
“Really,” said Mr. Wygant coldly, “you will have to solve that problem for yourself.”
“Apparently, I should have to take part in the scramble for money—if it's only money that counts.”
“Young man,” said the other, “I feel sorry for you—you will get some hard knocks from the world before you get through. You will have to learn to take life as you find it. Perhaps many of us would make it different, if we could have our way. But you will find that life is a hard battle. It is a struggle for existence, and the people who survive are the ones who are best fitted—”
And suddenly Samuel raised his hand. “I thank you, Mr. Wygant,” he said gravely, “but I have been all through that part of it before.”
“What do you mean?” asked the other.
“I couldn't explain,” said he. “You wouldn't understand me. I see that you are another of the followers of Herbert Spencer. And that's all right—only WHY do you belong to the church? Why do you pretend to follow Jesus—-”
And suddenly Mr. Wygant rose to his feet. “This is quite too much,” he said. “I must ask you to leave my house.”
“But, sir!” cried Samuel.
“Not another word!” exclaimed the other. “Please leave the house!”
And so the conversation came to an end.