I had not taken it for her sake--that is, not wholly for her sake.
And as to the giving up! Why, bless you, that little sitting-room,
with the wife and baby it contained, was worth a thousand
Tabernacles to me; and I managed to tell Jennie so, and emphasize
the declaration with a--well no matter. But she did not need the
information, she knew it very well before, I am sure.

"The real question seems to me, John, to be whether we mean to be
church members at all?" said Jennie.

"Church members at all!" I echoed.

"Yes," said she. "We are not members of the Broadway Tabernacle any
more--except in name. What is a foot or an arm fifty miles away from
the body? Can they keep loving watch and care over us; or we over
them? It is not a question between one church-home and another,
John; it is a question between this church-home and none at all."

"But, Jennie," said I, "the finances here are in a fearful state.
They are always coming down on the church for contributions, and
holding fairs in summer, and tableaux and what not, in winter, and
generally waiting for something to turn up. If I had the naming of
this church I would call it St. Micawber's church."

Jennie laughed. "Well, John," said she, "I think you are ready
enough with your money." (I am not so sure of that. I am inclined to
think that is Jennie's way of making me so.) "And I have nothing to
say about the finances."