Mr. Hooper received the twelve Deacons in his drawing-room, and when the
latest comer was seated, began:

"There ain't no need for me to tell you, brethren, why I asked you all
to come round here this afternoon. After that sermon this mornin' I
guess we're all sot upon showin' our minister that we appreciate him.
There are mighty few men with five thousand dollars a year who'd give up
ten thousand. It seems to me a pretty good proof that a man's a
Christian ef he'll do that. 'Tain't being merely a Christian: it's
Christ-like. We must keep Mr. Letgood right here: he's the sort o' man
we want. If they come from Chicago after him now, they'll be comin' from
New York next, an' he oughtn't to be exposed to sich great temptation.

"I allow that we'll be able to raise the pew-rents from the first of
January next, to bring in another two thousand five hundred dollars a
year, and I propose that we Deacons should jest put our hands deep down
in our pockets and give Mr. Letgood that much anyway for this year, and
promise the same for the future. I'm willin', as senior Deacon, though
not the richest, to start the list with three hundred dollars."

In five minutes the money was subscribed, and it was agreed that each
man should pay in his contribution to the name of Mr. Hooper at the
First National Bank next day; Mr. Hooper could then draw his cheque for
the sum.

"Wall," said the Deacon, again getting up, "that's settled, but I've
drawn that cheque already. Mrs. Hooper and me talked the thing over," he
added half apologetically, and as if to explain his unbusinesslike
rashness; "an' she thinks we oughter go right now to Mr. Letgood as a