Mrs. Grey broke in, beaming:

"That's just it, dear Miss Smith,--just it. Your heart is good, but you
need strong practical advice. You know we weak women are so impractical,
as my poor Job so often said. Now, I'm going to arrange to endow this
school with at least--at least a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. One
condition is that my friend, Mr. Cresswell here, and these other
gentlemen, including sound Northern business men like Mr. Easterly,
shall hold this money in trust, and expend it for your school as they
think best."

"Mr. Cresswell would be their local representative?" asked Miss Smith
slowly with white face.

"Why yes--yes, of course."

There was a long, tense silence. Then the firm reply,

"Mrs. Grey, I thank you, but I cannot accept your offer."

Sarah Smith's voice was strong, the tremor had left her hands. She had
expected something like this, of course; yet when it came--somehow it
failed to stun. She would not turn over the direction of the school, or
the direction of the education of these people, to those who were most
opposed to their education. Therefore, there was no need to hesitate;
there was no need to think the thing over--she had thought it over--and
she looked into Mrs. Grey's eyes and with gathering tears in her own
said:

"Again, I thank you very much, Mrs. Grey."