Meantime Mary had spent six thousand dollars on a new house for herself
and a pair of slippers for her pastor, and then had fallen peacefully to
rest.

That same Saturday evening the postman had delivered a letter to each of
the other principal citizens--nineteen letters in all. No two of the
envelopes were alike, and no two of the superscriptions were in the same
hand, but the letters inside were just like each other in every detail
but one. They were exact copies of the letter received by
Richards--handwriting and all--and were all signed by Stephenson, but in
place of Richards's name each receiver's own name appeared.

All night long eighteen principal citizens did what their caste-brother
Richards was doing at the same time--they put in their energies trying to
remember what notable service it was that they had unconsciously done
Barclay Goodson. In no case was it a holiday job; still they succeeded.

And while they were at this work, which was difficult, their wives put in
the night spending the money, which was easy. During that one night the
nineteen wives spent an average of seven thousand dollars each out of the
forty thousand in the sack--a hundred and thirty-three thousand
altogether.

Next day there was a surprise for Jack Halliday. He noticed that the
faces of the nineteen chief citizens and their wives bore that expression
of peaceful and holy happiness again. He could not understand it,
neither was he able to invent any remarks about it that could damage it
or disturb it. And so it was his turn to be dissatisfied with life. His
private guesses at the reasons for the happiness failed in all instances,
upon examination. When he met Mrs. Wilcox and noticed the placid ecstasy