over on the West Side, a Sunday-school for mission children, and I
do believe he's more interested in that than in his business. He
wants to make it the biggest Sunday-school in Chicago. It's an
ambition of his. I don't want you to think that he's good in a
goody-goody way, because he's not. Laura," she exclaimed, "he's a
fine man. I didn't intend to brag him up to you, because I wanted
you to like him. But no one knows--as I say--no one knows Curtis
Jadwin better than Charlie and I, and we just _love_ him. The
kindliest, biggest-hearted fellow--oh, well, you'll know him for
yourself, and then you'll see. He passes the plate in our church."

"Dr. Wendell's church?" asked Laura.

"Yes you know--the Second Presbyterian."

"I'm Episcopalian myself," observed Laura, still thoughtfully gazing
into the fire.

"I know, I know. But Jadwin isn't the blue-nosed sort. And now see
here, Laura, I want to tell you. J.--that's what Charlie and I call
Jadwin--J. was talking to us the other day about supporting a ward
in the Children's Hospital for the children of his Sunday-school
that get hurt or sick. You see he has nearly eight hundred boys and
girls in his school, and there's not a week passes that he don't
hear of some one of them who has been hurt or taken sick. And he
wants to start a ward at the Children's Hospital, that can take care
of them. He says he wants to get other people interested, too, and
so he wants to start a contribution. He says he'll double any amount
that's raised in the next six months--that is, if there's two
thousand raised, he'll make it four thousand; understand? And so