year!_ Ten thousand. Why, that's twice what you're gettin' here. You
can't refuse that. I know you wouldn't ef you war' a son of mine--as you
might be. Ten thousand. No, sir. An' the Second Baptist Church in
Chicago is the first; it's the best, the richest, the largest. There
ain't no sort of comparison between it and the First. No, sir! There
ain't none. Why, James P. Willis, him as was here and heard you--that's
how it came about, that's how!--he's the senior Deacon of it, an' I
guess he can count dollars with any man this side of New York. Yes, sir,
with any man west of the Alleghany Mountains." The breathless excitement
of the good Deacon changed gradually as he realized that his hearers
were not in sympathy with him, and his speech became almost solemn in
its impressiveness as he continued. "See here! This ain't a thing to
waste. Ten thousand dollars a year to start with, an' the best church in
Chicago, you can't expect to do better than that. Though you're young
still, when the chance comes, it should be gripped."

"Oh, pshaw!" broke in Mrs. Hooper irritably, twining her fingers and
tapping the carpet with her foot, "Mr. Letgood doesn't want to leave
Kansas City. Don't you understand? Perhaps he likes the folk here just
as well as any in Chicago." No words could describe the glance which
accompanied this. It was appealing, and coquettish, and triumphant, and
the whole battery was directed full on Mr. Letgood, who had by this time
recovered his self-possession.

"Of course," he said, turning to the Deacon and overlooking Mrs.
Hooper's appeal, "I know all that, and I don't deny that the 'call' at
first seemed to draw me." Here his voice dropped as if he were speaking
to himself: "It offers a wider and a higher sphere of work, but there's
work, too, to be done here, and I don't know that the extra salary ought
to tempt me. _Take neither scrip nor money in your purse_," and he