There was a pause. "Don't you see what I mean, doctor?" asked Samuel.

"Yes," was the reply, "I see."


"Well?" said Samuel.

"It would be no use to try it," said the doctor. "They would never do
it."

"They wouldn't?"

"No. Nothing in the world could make them do it."

"Not even if we threatened to denounce them?"

"No; not even then."

"Not even if we put them in jail?"

Dr. Vince made no reply. The other sat waiting. And then suddenly he
said in a low voice, "Doctor, I mean to MAKE them give it up. I see it
quite clearly now--that is my duty. They must give it up!"

Again there was silence.

"Dr. Vince," cried the boy in a voice of pain, "you surely mean to
help me!"

And suddenly the doctor shut his lips together tightly. "No, Samuel,"
he said. "I do not!"

The boy sat dumb. He felt a kind of faintness come over him. "You will
leave me all alone?" he said in a weak voice.

The other made no reply.

"Am I not right?" cried the boy wildly. "Have I not spoken the truth?"

"I don't know," the doctor answered. "It is too hard a question for me
to answer. I only know that I do not feel such things to be in my
province; and I will not have anything to do with them."

"But, doctor, you are the representative of the church!"

"Yes. And I must attend to the affairs of the church."

"But is it no affair of the church that the people are being robbed?"

There was no reply.

"You give out charity!" protested Samuel.

"You pretend to try to help the poor! And I bring you cases, and you
confess that you can't help them--because there are too many. And you
couldn't tell how it came to be. But here I show you--I prove to you
what makes the people poor! They are being robbed--they are being
trampled upon! Their own government has been stolen from them, and is
being used to cheat them! And you won't lift your voice to help!"

"There is nothing that I can do, Samuel!" cried the clergyman wildly.

"But there is! There is! You won't try! You might at least withdraw
your help from these criminals!"

"My HELP!"

"Yes, sir! You help them! You permit them to stay in the church, and
that gives them your sanction! You shelter them, and save them from
attack! If I were to go out to-morrow and try to open the eyes of the
people, no one would listen to me, because these men are so
respectable--because they are members of the church, and friends and
relatives of yours!"

"Samuel!" exclaimed the clergyman.

"And worse than that, sir! You take their money--you let the church
become dependent upon them! You told me that yourself, sir! And you
give their money to the poor people--the very people they have robbed!
And that blinds the people--they are grateful, and they don't
understand! And so you help to keep them in their chains! Don't you
see that, Dr. Vince?--why, it's just the same as if you were hired for
that purpose!"

Dr. Vince had risen in agitation. "Really, Samuel!" he cried. "You
have exceeded the limit of endurance. This cannot go on! I will not
hear another word of it!"

Samuel sat, heart broken. "Then you are going to desert me!" he
exclaimed. "You are going to make me do it alone."

The other stared. "What are you going to do?" he demanded.

"First," said Samuel, "I am going to see these men. I am going to give
them a chance to see the error of their ways."

"Boy!" cried the doctor. "You are mad!"

"Perhaps I am," was the reply. "But how can I help that?"

"At least," exclaimed the other, "if you take any such step, you will
make it clear to them that _I_ have not sent you, and that you have no
sanction from me."

For a long time Samuel made no reply to this. Somehow it seemed the
most unworthy thing that his friend had said yet. It meant that Dr.
Vince was a coward!

"No, sir," he said at last, "you may rest easy about that. I will take
the whole burden on my own shoulders. There's no reason why I should
trouble you any more, I think."

And with that he rose, and went out from the house.




CHAPTER XXIII


After Samuel had left Dr. Vince, a great wave of desolation swept over
him. He was alone again, and all the world was against him!

For a moment he had an impulse to turn back. After all, he was only a
boy; and who was he, to set himself up against the wise and great? But
then like a stab, came again the thought which drove him always--the
thought of the people, suffering and starving! Truly it was better to
die than to live in a world in which there was so much misery and
oppression! That was the truth, he would rather die than let these
things go on unopposed. And so there could be no turning back-there
was nothing for him save to do what he could.

Where should he begin? He thought of Mr. Hickman--a most unpromising
person to work with. Samuel had been afraid of him from the first time
he had seen him.

Then he thought of Mr. Wygant; should he begin with him? This brought
to his mind something which had been driven away by the rush of
events. Miss Gladys! How would she take these things? And what would
she think when she learned about her father's wickedness?

A new idea came to Samuel. Why should he not take Miss Gladys into his
confidence? She would be the one to help him. She had helped him with
Sophie; and she had promised to help with Master Albert. And surely it
was her right to know about matters which concerned her family so
nearly. She would know what was best, so far as concerned her own
father; he would take her advice as to how to approach him.

He went to the house and asked for Sophie.

"Tell Miss Gladys that I want to see her," he said; "and that it's
something very, very important."

So Sophie went away, and returning, took him upstairs.

"Samuel," said his divinity, "it isn't safe for you to come to see me
in the afternoons."

"Yes, Miss Gladys," said he. "But this is something very serious. It's
got nothing to do with myself."

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's your father, Miss Gladys."

"My father?"

"Yes, Miss Gladys. It's a long story. I shall have to begin at the
beginning."

So he told the story of his coming to the church, and of the fervor
which had seized upon him, and how he had set to work to bring
converts into the fold; and how he had met a wicked man who had
resisted his faith, and of all the dreadful things which this man had
said. When he came to what Charlie Swift had told about her own
father, Samuel was disposed to expurgate the story; but Miss Gladys
would have it all, and seemed even to be disappointed that he had not
more details to give her.

"And Hickman!" she exclaimed gleefully. "I always knew he was an old
scamp! I'll wager you haven't found out the hundredth part about him,
Samuel!"

Samuel went on to tell about the revelation at Callahan's.

"And you took that to Dr. Vince!" she cried amazed.

"Yes," said he.

"And what did he say?"

"He wouldn't have anything to do with it. And so it's all left to me."

"And what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know, Miss Gladys. For one thing, I think I shall have to see
your father."

"See my father!" gasped the girl.

"Yes, Miss Gladys."

"But what for?"

"To try to get him to see how wicked these things are."

The other was staring at him with wide-open, startled eyes. "Do you
mean," she cried, "that you want to go to my father and talk to him
about what he's doing in politics?"

"Why, yes, Miss Gladys--what else can I do?"

And Miss Gladys took out her handkerchief, and leaned down upon the
table, hiding her face. She was overcome with some emotion, the nature
of which was not apparent.

The boy was naturally alarmed. "Miss Gladys!" he cried. "You aren't
angry with me?"

She answered, in a muffled voice, "No, Samuel--no!"

Then she looked up, her face somewhat red. "Go and see him, Samuel!"
she said.

"You don't mind?" he cried anxiously.

"No, not in the least," she said. "Go right ahead and see what you can
do. He's a very bad, worldly man; and if you can soften his heart, it
will be the best thing for all of us."

"And it won't make any difference in our relationship?" he asked.

"In our relationship?" she repeated; and then, "Not in the least. But
mind, of course, don't say anything about that to him. Don't give him
any idea that you know me!"

"Of course not, Miss Gladys."

"Tell him that you come from the church. And give it to him good and
hard, Samuel--for I'm sure he's done everything you told me, and lots
that is worse."

"Miss Gladys!" gasped the other.

"And mind, Samuel!" she added. "Come and tell me about it afterwards.
Perhaps I can advise you what to do next."

There was a pause, while the two looked at each other. And then in a
sudden burst of emotion Miss Gladys exclaimed, "Oh, Samuel, you are an
angel!"

And she broke into a peal of laughter; and swiftly, like a bird upon
the wing, she leaned toward him, and touched his cheek with her lips.
And then, like a flash, she was gone; and Samuel was left alone with
his bewilderment.

Samuel set out forthwith for Mr. Wygant's office. But just before he
came to the bridge Mr. Wygant's automobile flashed past him; and so he
turned and went back to the house.

This time he went to the front door. "I am Samuel Prescott, from St.
Matthew's Church," he said to the butler. "And I want to see Mr.
Wygant upon important business."

Mr. Wygant sat in a great armchair by one of the windows in his
library. About him was the most elaborate collection of books that
Samuel had yet seen; and in the luxurious room was an atmosphere of
profound and age-long calm. Mr. Wygant himself was tall and stately,
with an indescribable air of exclusiveness and reserve.

Samuel clenched his hands and rushed at once to the attack. "I am
Samuel Prescott, the sexton's boy at the church," he said; "and I have
to talk to you about something very, VERY serious."

"Well?" said Mr. Wygant.

Then Samuel told yet again how he had been led into evil ways, and how
he had been converted by Dr. Vince. He told the story in detail, so
that the other might comprehend his fervor. Then he told of the
converts he had made, and how at last he had encountered Charlie
Swift. "And this man would not come into the church," he wound up,
"because of the wicked people who are in it."

The other had been listening with perplexed interest. "Who are these
people?" he asked.

"Yourself for one," said Samuel.

Mr. Wygant started. "Myself!" he exclaimed. "What have I done?"

"For one thing," replied Samuel, "you work little children in your
mill, and you named the State senator to beat the child-labor bill.
And for another, you make speeches and pose as a political reformer,
while you are paying money to Slattery, so that he will give you
franchises."

There was a silence, while Mr. Wygant got back his breath. "Young
man," he cried at last, "this is a most incredible piece of
impertinence!"

And suddenly the boy started toward him, stretching out his arms. "Mr.
Wygant!" he cried. "You are going to be angry with me! But I beg you
not to harden your heart! I have come here for your own good! I came
because I couldn't bear to know that such things are done by a member
of St. Matthew's Church!"

For a moment or two Mr. Wygant sat staring. "Let me ask you one
thing," he said. "Does Dr. Vince know about this?"

"I went to Dr. Vince about it first," replied Samuel. "And he wouldn't
do anything about it. He said that if I came to you, I must make it
clear that he did not approve of it. I have come of my own free will,
sir."

There was another pause. "You are going to be angry with me!" cried
Samuel, again.

"No," said the other, "I will not be angry--because you are nothing
but a child, and you don't know what you are doing."

"Oh!" said Samuel.

"You are very much in need of a little knowledge of life," added the
other.

"But, Mr. Wygant," exclaimed the boy, "the things I have said are
true!"

"They are true--after a fashion," was the reply.

"And they are very wrong things!"

"They seem so to you. That is because you know so little about such
matters."

"You are corrupting the government of your country, Mr. Wygant!"

"The government of my country, as you call it, consisting of a number
of blackmailing politicians, who exist to prey upon the business I
represent."

There was a pause. "You see, young man," said Mr. Wygant, "I have many
responsibilities upon my shoulders--many interests looking to me for
protection. And it is as if I were surrounded by a pack of wolves."

"But meantime," cried Samuel, "what is becoming of free government?"

"I do not know," the other replied. "I sometimes think that unless the
people reform, free government will soon come to an end."

"But what are the people to do, sir?"

"They are to elect honest men, with whom one can do business--instead
of the peasant saloon keepers and blatherskite labor leaders whom they
choose at present."

Samuel thought for a moment. "Men with whom one can do business," he
said--"but what kind of business do you want to do?"

"How do you mean?" asked the other.

"You went to those politicians and got a franchise that will let you
tax the people whatever you please for ninety-nine years. And do you
think that was good business for the people?"

There was no reply to this.

"And how much of the property you are protecting was made in such ways
as that, sir?"

A frown had come upon Mr. Wygant's forehead. But no one could gaze
into Samuel's agonized face and remain angry.

"Young man," said he. "I can only tell you again that you do not know
the world. If I should step out, would things be any different? The
franchises would go to some other crowd--that is all. It is the
competition of capital."

"The competition of capital," reflected the boy. "In other words,
there is a scramble for money, and you get what you can!"

"You may put it that way, sir."

"And you think that your responsibility ends when you've got a share
for your crowd!"

"Yes--I suppose that is it."

There was a pause. "I see perfectly," said Samuel, in a low voice.
"There's only one thing I can't understand."

"What is that?"

"Why you should belong to the church, sir? What has this money
scramble to do with the teaching of Jesus?"

And then Samuel saw that he had overstepped the mark. "Really, young
man," said Mr. Wygant, "I cannot see what is to be gained by pursuing
this conversation."

"But, sir, you are degrading the church!"

"The subject must be dropped!" said Mr. Wygant sternly. "You are
presuming upon my good nature. You are forgetting your place."

"I have been reminded of my place before," said Samuel, in a
suppressed voice. "But I do not know what my place is."

"That is quite evident," responded the other. "It is your place to do
your work, and be respectful to your superiors, and keep your opinions
to yourself."

"I see that you will get angry with me," said the boy, "I can't make
you understand--I am only trying to find the truth. I want to do
what's right, Mr. Wygant!"

"I suppose you do," began the other--

"I want to understand, sir--just what is it that makes another person
my superior?"

"People who are older than you, and who are wiser--"

"But is it age and wisdom, Mr. Wygant? I worked for Master Albert
Lockman, and he's hardly any older than I. And yet he was my
superior!"

"Yes," admitted the other--

"And in spite of the wicked life that he's leading, sir!"

"What!"

"Yes, Mr. Wygant--he's drinking, and going with bad women. And yet he
is my superior."

"Ahem!" said Mr. Wygant.

"Isn't it simply that he has got a lot of money?" pursued Samuel
relentlessly.

Mr. Wygant did not reply.

"And isn't my 'place' simply the fact that I haven't any money at
all?"

Again there was no reply.

"And yet, I see the truth, and I have to speak it! And how can I get
to a 'place' where I may?"

"Really," said Mr. Wygant coldly, "you will have to solve that problem
for yourself."

"Apparently, I should have to take part in the scramble for money--if
it's only money that counts."

"Young man," said the other, "I feel sorry for you--you will get some
hard knocks from the world before you get through. You will have to
learn to take life as you find it. Perhaps many of us would make it
different, if we could have our way. But you will find that life is a
hard battle. It is a struggle for existence, and the people who
survive are the ones who are best fitted--"

And suddenly Samuel raised his hand. "I thank you, Mr. Wygant," he
said gravely, "but I have been all through that part of it before."

"What do you mean?" asked the other.

"I couldn't explain," said he. "You wouldn't understand me. I see that
you are another of the followers of Herbert Spencer. And that's all
right--only WHY do you belong to the church? Why do you pretend to
follow Jesus---"


And suddenly Mr. Wygant rose to his feet. "This is quite too much," he
said. "I must ask you to leave my house."

"But, sir!" cried Samuel.

"Not another word!" exclaimed the other. "Please leave the house!"

And so the conversation came to an end.




CHAPTER XXIV


Samuel had had nothing to eat since morning, but he did not feel
hungry. He was faint from grief and despair. To encounter a man of the
world like Mr. Wygant, cold and merciless and masterful--that was a
terrible ordeal for him. The man seemed to him like some great
fortress of evil; and what could he do, save to gaze at it in impotent
rage?

He went home, and Sophie met him at the door. "I thought you wanted an
early supper, Samuel," said she.

"Why?" he asked dully.

"You had something to do at the church tonight!"

"Yes," he recollected, "there's to be a vestry meeting, and I have to
light up. But I'm tired of the church work."

"Tired of the church work!" gasped the child. "Yes," he said. And then
to the amazed and terrified family, he told the story of his day's
experiences.

Sophie listened, thrilling with excitement. "And you went to see Mr.
Wygant!" she cried in awe. "Oh, Samuel, how brave of you!"

"He ordered me out of his house," said the boy bitterly. "And Dr.
Vince has gone back on me--I have no one at all to help."

Sophie came to him and flung her arms about him. "You have us,
Samuel!" she exclaimed. "We will stand by you--won't we mother?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Stedman--"but what can poor people like us do?"

"And then you have Miss Gladys!" cried Sophie after a moment.

"Miss Gladys!" he echoed. "Will she take my part against her own
father?"

"She told you that she loved you, Samuel," said the child. "And she
knows that you are in the right."

"I will have to go and see her," said Samuel after a little. "I
promised that I would come and tell what happened."

"And I will see her, too!" put in the other. "Oh, I'm sure she'll
stand by you!"

The child's face was aglow with excitement; and Samuel looked at her,
and for the first time it occurred to him that Sophie was really
beautiful. Her face had filled out and her color had come back, since
she had been getting one meal every day at the Wygant's. "Don't you
think Miss Gladys will help, mother?" she asked.

"I don't know," said Mrs. Stedman dubiously.

"It's very terrible--I can't see why such things have to be."

"You think that Samuel did right, don't you?" cried the child.

"I--I suppose so," she answered. "It's hard to say--it will make so
much trouble. And if Miss Gladys were angry, then you might lose your
place!"

"Oh, mother!" cried Sophie. And the two young people gazed at each
other in sudden dismay. That was something they had never thought of.

"You mustn't do it, Sophie!" cried the boy. "You must leave it to me!"

"But why should you make all the sacrifices?" replied Sophie. "If it's
right for you, isn't it right for me?"

"But, Sophie!" wailed Mrs. Stedman. "If you lost this place we should
all starve!"

And again they stared at each other with terror in their eyes.
"Sophie," said Samuel, "I forbid you to have anything to do with it!"

But in his heart he knew that he might as well not have said this. And
Mrs. Stedman knew it, too, and turned white with fear.

The boy ate a few hurried mouthfuls, and then went off to his work at
the church. But he did not go with the old joy in his soul. Before
this it had been the work of the Lord that he had been doing; but now
he was only serving the Wygants--and the Hickmans--apparently one
always served them, no matter where or how he worked in this world.

"You are late," said old Mr. Jacobs, the sexton, when he arrived.

"Yes, sir," said Samuel.

"Dr. Vince left word that he wanted to see you as soon as you came."

The boy's heart gave a leap. Had the doctor by any chance repented?
"Where is he?" he asked.

"In the vestry room," said the other; and the boy went there.

The instant he entered, Dr. Vince sprang to his feet. "Samuel," he
cried vehemently, "this thing has got to stop!"

"What thing, Dr. Vince?"

"Your conduct is beyond endurance, boy--you are driving me to
distraction!"

"What have I done now, sir?"

"My brother-in-law has just been here, making a terrible disturbance.
You have been defaming him among the congregation of the church!"

"But, Dr. Vince!" cried Samuel, in amazement. "I have done nothing of
the sort!"

"But you must have! Everyone is talking about it!"

"Doctor," said the boy solemnly, "you are mistaken. I went to see Mr.
Wygant, as I told you I would. Besides that, I have not spoken to
 a single soul about it, except just now to Sophie and Mrs. Stedman.--
Oh, yes," he added quickly--"and to Miss Gladys!"

"Ah!" exclaimed the other. "There you have it! Miss Gladys is a school
friend of Mr. Hickman's daughter; and, of course, she went at once to
tell her. And, of course, she will tell everyone else she knows--the
whole congregation will be gossiping about it to-morrow!"

"I am very sorry, sir."

"You see the trouble you cause me! And I must tell you plainly,
Samuel, that this thing cannot go on another minute. Unless you are
prepared to give up these absurd ideas of yours and attend to your
duties as the sexton's boy, it will be necessary for you to leave the
church."

Samuel was staring at him aghast. "Leave the church!" he cried.

"Most assuredly!" declared the other.

"Dr. Vince!" exclaimed the other. "Do you mean that you would actually
try to turn me out of the church?"

"I would, sir!"

"But, doctor, have you the right to do that?"

"The right? Why not?"

"You have the right to take away my work. But to turn me out of the
church?"

"Samuel," cried the distracted clergyman, "am I not the rector of this
church?"

"But, doctor," cried Samuel, "it is the church of God!"

There was a long pause.

Finally, Samuel took up the conversation again. "Tell me, Dr. Vince,"
he said. "When Mr. Hickman came to see you, did he deny that he had
committed that crime?"


"I did not ask him," replied the other.

"You didn't ask him!" exclaimed the boy in dismay. "You didn't even
care that much?"

Again there was a pause. "I asked Mr. Wygant," said Samuel in a low
voice. "And he confessed that he was guilty."

"What!" cried the other.

"He confessed it--his whole conversation was a confession of it. He
said everybody did those things, because that was the way to make
money, and everybody wanted to make money. He called it competition.
And then I asked him why he came to the church of Jesus, and he
ordered me out of his house."

Dr. Vince was listening with knitted brows. "And what do you propose
to do now," he asked.

"I don't know, sir. I suppose I shall have to expose him."

"Samuel," exclaimed the clergyman, "in all this wild behavior of
yours, does it never occur to you that you owe some gratitude to me?"

"Oh, doctor!" cried the boy, clasping his hands in agony. "Don't say
anything like that to me!"

"I do say it!" persisted the other. "I saved you and helped you; and
now you are causing me most terrible suffering!"

"Doctor," protested Samuel, "I would do anything in the world for you-
-I would die for you. But you ask me to be false to my duty; and how
can I do that?"

"But does it never occur to you that older and wiser people may be
better able to judge than you are?"

"But the facts are so plain, sir! And you have never answered me! You
simply command me to be silent!"

The other did not reply.

"When I came to you," went on Samuel, "you taught me about love and
brotherhood--about self-sacrifice and service. And I took you at your
word, sir. As God is my witness, I have done nothing but try to apply
what you told me! I have tried to help the poor and oppressed. And how
could I know that you did not really mean what you said?"

"Samuel," protested the other, "you have no right to say that! I am
doing all that I can. I preach upon these things very often."

"Yes!" exclaimed the boy, "but what do you preach? Do you tell the
truth to these rich people who come to your church? Do you say to
them: 'You are robbing the poor. You are the cause of all the misery
which exists in this town--you carry the guilt of it upon your souls.
And you must cease from robbery and oppression--you must give up this
wealth that you have taken from the people!' No--you don't say that--
you know that you don't! And can't you see what that means, Dr. Vince-
-it means that the church is failing in its mission! And there will
have to be a new church--somewhere, somehow! For these things exist!
They are right here in our midst, and something must be done!"

And the boy sprang forward in his excitement, stretching out his arms.
"The people are starving! Right here about us--here in Lockmanville!
They are starving! starving! starving! Don't you understand, Dr.
Vince? Starving!"

The doctor wrung his hands in his agitation. "Boy," he exclaimed,
"this thing cannot go on. I cannot stand it any longer!"

"But what am I to do, sir?"

"You are to submit yourself to my guidance. I ask you, once for all,
Will you give up these wild courses of yours?"

"Dr. Vince," cried Samuel, "I cannot! I cannot!"

"Then I tell you it will be necessary for us to part. You will give up
your position, and you will leave the church."

The tears started into Samuel's eyes. "Doctor," he cried frantically,
"don't cast me out! Don't! I beg you on my knees, sir!"

"I have spoken," said the other, clenching his hands.

"But think what you are doing!" protested the boy. "You are casting
out your own soul! You are turning your back upon the truth!"

"I tell you you must go!" exclaimed the doctor.

"But think of it! It means the end of the church. For don't you see--I
shall have to fight you! I shall have to expose you! And I shall
prevail over you, because I have the truth with me--because you have
cast it out! Think what you are doing when you cast out the truth!"

"I will hear no more of this!" cried Dr. Vince wildly. "You are
raving. I tell you to go! I tell you to go! Go now!"

And Samuel turned and went, sobbing meanwhile as if his heart would
break.




CHAPTER XXV


Samuel rushed away into the darkness. But he couldn't stay away--he
could not bring himself to believe that he was separated from St.
Matthew's forever. He turned and came back to the church, and stood
gazing at it, choking with his sobs.

Then, as he waited, he saw an automobile draw up in front of the side
entrance, and saw Mr. Wygant step out and enter. The sight was like a
blow in the face to him. There was the proud rich man, defiant and
unpunished, seated in the place of authority; while Samuel, the
Seeker, was turned out of the door!

A blaze of rebellion flamed up in him. No, no--they should not cast
him off! He would fight them--he would fight to the very end. The
church was not their church--it was the church of God! And he had a
right to belong to it--and to speak the truth in it, too!

And so, just after the vestry had got settled to the consideration of
the architect's sketch for the new Nurse's Home, there came a loud
knock upon the door, and Samuel entered, wild-eyed and breathless.

"Gentlemen!" he cried. "I demand a hearing!"

Dr. Vince sprang to his feet in terror. "Samuel Prescott!" he
exclaimed.

"I have been ordered out of the church!" proclaimed Samuel. "And I
will not submit to it! I have spoken the truth, and I will not permit
the evil-doers in St. Matthew's to silence me!"

Mr. Hickman had sprung up. "Boy," he commanded, "leave this room!"

"I will not leave the room!" shouted Samuel. "I demand a hearing from
the vestry of this church. I have a right to a hearing! I have spoken
the truth, and nothing but the truth!"

"What is the boy talking about?" demanded another of the vestrymen.
This was Mr. Hamerton, a young lawyer, whose pleasant face Samuel had
often noticed. And Samuel, seeing curiosity and interest in his look,
sprang toward him.

"Don't let them turn me out without a hearing!" he cried.

"Boy!" exclaimed Mr. Hickman, "I command you to leave this room."

"You corrupted the city council!" shrilled Samuel. "You bribed it to
beat the water bill! It's true, and you know it's true, and you don't
dare to deny it!"

Mr. Hickman was purple in the face with rage. "It's a preposterous
lie!" he roared.

"I have talked with one of the men who got the money!" cried Samuel.
"There was two thousand dollars paid to ten of the supervisors."

"Who is this man?" cried the other furiously.

"I won't tell his name," said Samuel. "He told me in confidence."

"Aha!" laughed the other. "I knew as much! It is a vile slander!"

"It is true!" protested Samuel. "Dr. Vince, you know that I am telling
the truth. What reason would I have for making it up?"

"I have told you, Samuel," exclaimed Dr. Vince, "that I would have
nothing to do with this matter."

"I will take any member of this vestry to talk with that man!"
declared the boy. "Anybody can find out about these things if he wants
to. Why, Mr. Wygant told me himself that he had paid money to Slattery
to get franchises!"

And then Mr. Wygant came into the controversy. "WHAT!" he shouted.

"Why, of course you did!" cried Samuel in amazement. "Didn't you tell
me this very afternoon?"

"I told you nothing of the sort!" declared the man.

"You told me everybody did it--that there was no way to help doing it.
You called it the competition of capital!" "I submit that this is an
outrage!" exclaimed Mr. Hickman. "Leave this room, sir!"

"The poor people in this town are suffering and dying!" cried Samuel.
"And they are being robbed and oppressed. And are these things to go
on forever?"

"Samuel, this is no place to discuss the question!" broke in Dr.
Vince.

"But why not, sir? The guilty men are high
 in the councils of this church. They hold the church up to disgrace
before all the world. And this is the church of Christ, sir!"

"But yours is not the way to go about it, boy!" exclaimed Mr.
Hamerton--who was alarmed because Samuel kept looking at him.

"Why not?" cried Samuel. "Did not Christ drive out the moneychangers
from the temple with whips?"

This was an uncomfortable saying. There was a pause after it, as if
everyone were willing to let his neighbor speak first.

"Are we not taught to follow Christ's example, Dr. Vince?" asked the
boy.

"Hardly in that sense, Samuel," said the terrified doctor. "Christ was
God. And we can hardly be expected--"

"Ah, that is a subterfuge!" broke in Samuel, passionately. "You say
that Christ was God, and so you excuse yourself from doing what He
tells you to! But I don't believe that He was God in any such sense as
that. He was a man, like you and me! He was a poor man, who suffered
and starved! And the rich men of His time despised Him and spit upon
Him and crucified Him!"

Here a new member of the vestry entered the arena. This was the
venerable Mr. Curtis, who looked like a statue of the Olympian Jove.
"Boy," he said sternly, "you object to being put out of the church--
and yet you confess to being an infidel."

"I may be an infidel, Mr. Curtis," replied the other, quickly; "but I
never paid two hundred dollars to Slattery so that the police would
let me block the sidewalks of the town."

And Mr. Curtis subsided and took no further part in the discussion.

"The church cast out Jesus!" went on Samuel, taking advantage of the
confusion. "And it was the rich and powerful in the church who did it.
And he used about them language far more violent than I have ever
used. 'Woe unto you, scribes and pharisees, hypocrites!' he said. 'Woe
unto you also, you lawyers!--Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how
can ye escape the damnation of hell?' And if He were here tonight He
would be on my side--and the rich evil-doers who sit on this board
would cast Him out again! You have cast Him out already! You have shut
your ears to the cry of the oppressed--you make mockery of justice and
truth! You are crucifying Him again every day!"

"This is outrageous!" cried Mr. Hickman. "It is blasphemy!"

"It must stop instantly," put in Mr. Wygant. And Samuel knew that when
Mr. Wygant spoke, he meant to be obeyed.

"Then there is no one here who will hear me?" he exclaimed. "Mr.
Hamerton, won't you help me?"

"What do you want us to do?" demanded Mr. Hamerton.

"I want the vestry to investigate these charges. I want you to find
out whether it is true that members of St. Matthew's have been
corrupting the government of Lockmanville. And if it is true, I want
you to drive such men from the church! They have no place in the
church, sir! Men who spend their whole time in trying to get the
people's money from them! Men who openly declare, as Mr. Wygant did to
me, that it is necessary to bribe lawmakers in order to make money!
Such men degrade the church and drag it from its mission. They are the
enemies the church exists to fight--"

"Are we here to listen to a sermon from this boy?" shouted Mr. Hickman
furiously.

"Samuel, leave this room!" commanded Dr. Vince.

"Then there is no one here who will help me?"

"I told you you could accomplish nothing by such behavior. Leave the
room!"

"Very well, then," cried the boy wildly, "I will go. But I tell you I
will not give up without a fight. I will expose you and denounce you
to the world! The people shall know you for what you are--cowards and
hypocrites, faithless to your trust! Plunderers of the public!
Corrupters of the state!"

"Get out of here, you young villain!" shouted Hickman, advancing with
a menace.

And the boy, blazing with fury, pointed his finger straight into his
face. "You, Henry Hickman!" he cried. "You are the worst of them all!
You, the great lawyer--the eminent statesman! I have been among the
lowest--I have been with saloon keepers and criminals--with publicans
and harlots and thieves--but never yet have I met a man as merciless
and as hard as you! You a Christian--you might be the Roman soldier
who spat in Jesus' face!"

And with that last thunderbolt Samuel turned and went out, slamming
the door with a terrific bang in the great lawyer's face.

For at least a couple of hours Samuel paced the streets of
Lockmanville, to let his rage and grief subside. And then he went
home, and to his astonishment found that Sophie Stedman had been
waiting up for him all this while.

She listened breathlessly to the story of his evening's adventures.
Then she said, "I have been trying to do something, too."

"What have you done?" he asked.

"I went to see little Ethel," she replied.

"Ethel Vince!" he gasped.

"Yes," said she. "She is your friend, you know; and I went to ask her
not to let her father turn you off."

"And what came of it?"

"She cried," said Sophie. "She was terribly unhappy. She said that she
knew that you were a good boy; and that she would never rest until her
father had taken you back."

"You don't mean it!" cried Samuel in amazement.

"Yes, Samuel; but then her mother came."

"Oh! And what then?"

"She scolded me! She was very angry with me. She said I had no right
to fill the child's mind with falsehoods about her uncle. And she
wouldn't listen to me--she turned me out of the house."

There was a long silence. "I don't think I did any good at all," said
Sophie in a low voice. "We are going to have to do it all by
ourselves."




CHAPTER XXVI


Samuel slept not a wink all that night. First he lay wrestling with
the congregation. And then his thoughts came to Miss Gladys, and what
he was going to say to her. This kindled a fire in his blood, and when
the first streaks of dawn were in the sky, he rose and went out to
walk.

Throughout all these adventures, his feelings had been mingled with
the excitement of his love for her. Samuel hardly knew what to make of
himself. He had never kissed a woman in his life before--but now
desire was awake, and from the deeps of him the most unexpected
emotions came surging, sweeping him away. He was a prey to longings
and terrors. Wild ecstasies came to him, and then followed plunges
into melancholy. He longed to see her, and other things stood in the
way, and he did not know why he should be so tormented.

Just to be in love would have been enough. But to have been given the
love of a being like Miss Gladys--peerless and unapproachable, almost
unimaginable!

After hours of pacing the streets, he called to see her. And she came
to him, her face alight with eager curiosity, and crying, "Tell me all
about it!"

She listened, almost dumb with amazement. "And you said that to my
father!" she exclaimed again and again. "And to Mr. Hickman! And to
old Mr. Curtis! Samuel! Samuel!"

"It was all true, Miss Gladys," he insisted.

"Yes," she said--"but--to say it to them!"

"They turned me out of the church," he went on. "Had they a right to
do that?"

"I don't know," she answered. "Oh, my, what a time there will be!"

"And what are you going to do now?" she asked after a pause.

"I don't know. I wanted to talk about it with you."

"But what do you think of doing?"

"I must expose them to the people."

Miss Gladys looked at him quickly. "Oh, no, Samuel," she said--"you
mustn't do that!"

"Why not, Miss Gladys?"

"Because--it wouldn't do."

"But Miss Gladys--"

"It wouldn't be decent, Samuel. And it's so much more effective to
talk with people privately, as you have been doing."

"But who else is there to talk to?"

"Why, I don't know. We'll have to think."

"It's your father and Mr. Hickman I have to deal with, Miss Gladys.
And they won't listen to me any more!"

"Perhaps not. But, then, see how much you have done already!"

"What have I done?"

"Think how ashamed you have made them!"

"But what difference does that make, Miss Gladys? Don't you see
they've still got the money they've taken?"

There was a pause. "This is something I have been thinking," said
Samuel gravely. "I've had this great burden laid upon me, and I must
carry it. I have to see the thing through to the end. And I'm afraid
it will be painful to you. You may feel that you can't possibly marry
me."

At these words Miss Gladys gave a wild start. She stared at him in
consternation. "Marry you!" she gasped.

"Yes," he said; and then, seeing the look upon her face, he stopped.

"Marry you!" she panted again.

A silence followed, while they gazed at each other.

"Why, Samuel!" she exclaimed.

"Miss Gladys," he said in a low voice, "you told me that you loved
me."

"Yes," she said, "but surely--" And then suddenly she bit her lips
together exclaiming, "This has gone too far!"

"Miss Gladys!" he cried.

"Samuel," she said, "we have been two bad children; and we must not go
on in this way."

The boy gave a gasp of amazement.

"I had no idea that you were taking me so seriously," she continued.
"It wasn't fair to me."

"Then--then you don't love me!" he panted.

"Why--perhaps," she replied, "how can I tell? But one does not marry
because one loves, Samuel."

He gazed at her, speechless.

"I thought we were playing with each other; and I thought you
understood it. It wasn't very wise, perhaps---"

"Playing with each other!" whispered the boy, his voice almost gone.

"You take everything with such frightful seriousness," she protested.
"Really, I don't think you had any right---"

"Miss Gladys!" he cried in sudden anguish; and she stopped and stared
at him, frightened.

"Do you know what you have done to me?" he exclaimed.

"Samuel," she said in a trembling voice, "I am very much surprised and
upset. I had no idea of such a thing; and you must stop, before it is
too late."

"But I love you!" he cried, half beside himself.

"Yes," she said in great agitation--"and that's very good of you. But
there are some things you. must remember--"

"You--you let me embrace you, Miss Gladys! You let me think of you so!
Why, what is a man to do? What was I to make of it? I had never loved
a woman before. And you--you led me on--"

"Samuel, you must not talk like this!" she broke in. "I can't listen
to you. It was a misunderstanding, and you must forget it all. You
must go away. We must not meet again."

"Miss Gladys!" he cried in horror.

"Yes," she exclaimed, "you must go--"

"You are going to turn me off!" he panted. "Oh, how can you say such a
thing? Why, think what you have done to me!"

"Samuel," protested the girl angrily, "this is perfectly preposterous
behavior of you! You have no right to go on in this way. You never had
any right to--to think such things. How could you so forget your
place?"

And he started as if stung with a whip. "My place!" he gasped.

"Yes," she said.

"I see, I see!" he burst out. "It's my 'place' again. It's the fact
that I have no money!"

"Why, Samuel!" she exclaimed. "What a thing to say! It's not that--"

"It's that, and it's nothing but that! It never is anything but that!
It's because I am a poor boy, and couldn't help myself! You told me
that you loved me, and I believed you. You were so beautiful, and I
thought that you must be good! Why, I worshiped the very ground you
walked on. I would have done anything in the world for you--I would
have died for you! I went about thinking about you all day--I made you
into a dream of everything that was good and perfect! And now--now--
you say that you were only playing with me! Using me for your selfish
pleasure--just as you do all the other poor people!"

"Samuel!" she gasped.

"Just as your father does the children in his mill! Just as your
cousin does the poor girls he seduces! Just as you do everything in
life that you touch!"

The girl had turned scarlet with anger. "How dare you speak to me that
way?" she cried.

"I dare to speak the truth to anyone! And that is the truth about you!
You are like all the rest of them--the members of your class. You are
parasites--vampires--you devour other people's lives! And you are the
worst, because you are a woman! You are beautiful, and you ought to be
all the things that I imagined you were! But you use your beauty for a
snare--you wreck men's lives with it--"

"Stop, Samuel!"

"I won't stop! You shall hear me! You drew me on deliberately--you
wanted to amuse yourself with me, to see what I would do. And you had
never a thought about me, or my rights, or the harm you might be doing
to me! And now you've got tired--and you tell me to end it! You tell
me about my 'place!' What am I in the world for, but to afford you
amusement? What are all the working people for but to save you trouble
and keep you beautiful and happy? What are the children for but to
spin clothes for you to wear? And you--what do you do for them, to pay
for their wasted lives, for all their toil and suffering?"

"Samuel Prescott!" cried the outraged girl. "I will not hear another
word of this!"

"Yes, that's just what your father said! And what your cousin said!
And what your clergyman said! And you can send for the butler and have
me put out--but let me tell you that will not be the end of it. We
shall find some way to get at you! The people will not always be your
slaves--they will not always give their lives to keep you in idleness
and luxury! You were born to it--you've had everything in the world
that you wanted, from the first hour of your life. And you think that
will go on forever, that nothing can ever change it! But let me tell
you that it seems different to the people underneath! We are tired of
being robbed and spit upon! And we mean to fight! We mean to fight! We
don't intend to be starved and tormented forever!"

And then in the midst of his wild tirade, Samuel stopped, and stared
with horror in his eyes--realizing that this was Miss Gladys to whom
he was talking! And suddenly a storm of sobs rose in him; and he put
his hands to his face, and burst into tears, and turned and rushed
from the room.

He went down the street, like a hunted animal, beside himself with
grief, and looking for some place to hide. And as he ran on, he pulled
out the faded pictures he had carried next to his heart, and tore them
into pieces and flung them to the winds.




CHAPTER XXVII


When Sophie came home that evening, Samuel had mastered himself. He
told her the story without a tremor in his voice. And this was well,
for he was not prepared for the paroxysm of emotion with which the
child received the news. Miss Gladys had been the last of Samuel's
illusions; but she was the only one that Sophie had ever had. The
child had made her life all over out of the joy of working for her;
and now, hearing the story of her treatment of Samuel, she was almost
beside herself with grief.

Samuel was frightened at her violence. "Listen, Sophie," he said,
putting his arm around her. "We must not forget our duty."

"I could never go back there again!" exclaimed the child wildly. "I
should die if I had to see her again!"

"I don't mean that," said the other quickly--seeking to divert her
thoughts. "But you must remember what I have to do; and you must help
me."

He went on to tell her of his plan to fight for the possession of St.
Matthew's Church. "And we must not give way to bitterness," he said;
"it would be a very wicked thing if we did it from anger."

"But how can you help it?" she cried.

"It is hard," said Samuel; "but I have been wrestling with myself. We
must not hate these people. They have done evil to us, but they do not
realize it--they are poor human beings like the rest of us."

"But they are bad, selfish people!" exclaimed the child.

"I have thought it all out," said he. "I have been walking the streets
all day, thinking about it. And I will not let myself feel anything
but pity for them. They have done me wrong, but it is nothing to the
wrong they have done themselves."

"Oh, Samuel, you are so good!" exclaimed Sophie; and he winced--
because that was what Miss Gladys had said to him.

"I had to settle it with myself," he explained. "I have got to carry
on a fight against them, and I have to be sure that I'm not just
venting my spite."

"What are you going to do?" asked Sophie.

"I am going to put the facts before the congregation of the church. If
they will do nothing, I am going to the people."

"But how, Samuel?"

"I am going to call a meeting. See, I have written this."

And he took from his pocket a piece of paper, on which he had printed,
in capital letters, as follows:

TO THE MEMBERS OF ST. MATTHEWS!

"There is corruption in the church. Members of its vestry have bribed
the government of the town. They are robbing the people. The vestry
has refused me a hearing and turned me out of the church. I appeal to
the congregation. Next Wednesday evening, at eight o'clock, I will
address a meeting on the vacant lot opposite the church, and will tell
what I know.
                                SAMUEL PRESCOTT."

"And what are you going to do with that?" asked Sophie in wonder.

"I am going to have it printed on little slips, and give them out to
the people when they are coming out of the church to-morrow morning."

"Oh, Samuel!" gasped the child.

"I have to do it," he said.

"But, Samuel, everyone will come--people from all over town."

"I can't help that," he answered. "I can't afford to hire a hall; and
they wouldn't let me speak in the church."

"But can you get this printed so quickly?"

"I don't know," said he. "I must find some one."

Sophie clapped her hands suddenly. "Oh, I know just the very thing!"
she cried. "Friedrich Bremer has a printing press!"

"What!"

"Yes. His father used to print things. They will tell us." And so,
without stopping to eat, the two hurried off to the Bremer family; and
mother and father and all the children sat and listened in
astonishment while Samuel told his tale. Friedrich was thrilling with
excitement; and old Johann's red face grew fiery.

"Herr Gott!" he cried. "I vas that vay myself once!"

"And then will you help me to get them printed?" asked Samuel.

"Sure!" replied the other. "I will do it myself. Vy did I go through
the Commune?" And so the whole family adjourned to the attic, and the
little printing outfit was dragged out from under the piles of
rubbish.

"I used it myself," said the old carpet designer. "But vhen I come
here they give me a varning, and I haf not dared. For two years I haf
not even been to the meetings of the local."

"Of the what?" asked Samuel.

"I am a Socialist," explained Mr. Bremer. And Samuel gave a start.
Ought he to accept any help from Socialists? But meantime Friedrich
was sorting out the type, and his father was inspecting Samuel's copy.

"You must make it vith a plenty of paragraphs," he said; "and
exclamation points, too. Then they vill read it."

"They'll read it!" said Friedrich grimly.

"How shall we print it?" asked the father; and the children rushed
downstairs and came back with some sheets of writing paper, and a lot
of brown wrapping paper. They sat on the floor and folded and cut it,
while Friedrich set the type. And this was the way of the printing of
Samuel's first manifesto.

"Can you make a speech?" Mrs. Bremer asked. "Won't you be frightened?"

To which Samuel answered gravely: "I don't think so. I shall be
thinking about what I have to say."

It was late at night when the two children went home, with three
hundred copies of the revolutionary document carefully wrapped up from
view; and they were so much excited by the whole affair that they had
actually forgotten about Miss Gladys! It was not until he tried to go
to sleep that her image came back to him, and all his blasted hopes
arose to mock at him. What a fool he had been! How utterly insane all
his fantasies seemed to him now! So he passed another sleepless night,
and it was not till daylight that he fell into a troubled slumber.