Part 18 (1/2)

”Quite so,” answered his father, ”quite so. I fully admit the force of that. I am only asking you, is it worth it? Mind you, I am not speaking now as a Christian, but as a businessman. Is it worth it?”

”I thought that perhaps, in view of the fact of our large surplus in other directions-”

”Exactly,” said his father, ”a heavy surplus. It is precisely on that point that I wished to speak to you this morning. You have at present a large annual surplus, and there is every prospect under Providence-in fact, I think in any case-of it continuing for years to come. If I may speak very frankly I should say that as long as our reverend friend, Dr. McTeague, continues in his charge of St. Osoph's-and I trust that he may be spared for many years to come-you are likely to enjoy the present prosperity of your church. Very good. The question arises, what disposition are we to make of our acc.u.mulating funds?”

”Yes,” said the rector, hesitating.

”I am speaking to you now,” said his father ”not as the secretary of your church, but as president of the Hymnal Supply Company which I represent here. Now please understand, Edward, I don't want in any way to force or control your judgment. I merely wish to show you certain-shall I say certain opportunities that present themselves for the disposal of our funds? The matter can be taken up later, formally, by yourself and the trustees of the church. As a matter of fact, I have already written to myself as secretary in the matter, and I have received what I consider a quite encouraging answer. Let me explain what I propose.”

Mr. Furlong senior rose, and opening the door of the office,

”Everett,” he said to the ancient clerk, ”kindly give me a Bible.”

It was given to him.

Mr. Furlong stood with the Bible poised in his hand.

”Now we,” he went on, ”I mean the Hymnal Supply Corporation, have an idea for bringing out an entirely new Bible.”

A look of dismay appeared on the saintly face of the rector.

”A new Bible!” he gasped.

”Precisely!” said his father, ”a new Bible! This one-and we find it every day in our business-is all wrong.”

”All wrong!” said the rector with horror in his face.

”My dear boy,” exclaimed his father, ”pray, pray, do not misunderstand me. Don't imagine for a moment that I mean wrong in a religious sense. Such a thought could never, I hope, enter my mind. All that I mean is that this Bible is badly made up.”

”Badly made up?” repeated his son, as mystified as ever.

”I see that you do not understand me. What I mean is this. Let me try to make myself quite clear. For the market of today this Bible”-and he poised it again on his hand, as if to test its weight, ”is too heavy. The people of today want something lighter, something easier to get hold of. Now if-”

But what Mr. Furlong was about to say was lost forever to the world.

For just at this juncture something occurred calculated to divert not only Mr. Furlong's sentence, but the fortunes and the surplus of St. Asaph's itself. At the very moment when Mr. Furlong was speaking a newspaper delivery man in the street outside handed to the sanctified boy the office copy of the noonday paper. And the boy had no sooner looked at its headlines than he said, ”How dreadful!” Being sanctified, he had no stronger form of speech than that. But he handed the paper forthwith to one of the stenographers with hair like the daffodils of Sheba, and when she looked at it she exclaimed, ”How awful!” And she knocked at once at the door of the ancient clerk and gave the paper to him; and when he looked at it and saw the headline the ancient clerk murmured, ”Ah!” in the gentle tone in which very old people greet the news of catastrophe or sudden death.

But in his turn he opened Mr. Furlong's door and put down the paper, laying his finger on the column for a moment without a word.

Mr. Furlong stopped short in his sentence. ”Dear me!” he said as his eyes caught the item of news. ”How very dreadful!”

”What is it?” said the rector.

”Dr. McTeague,” answered his father. ”He has been stricken with paralysis!”

”How shocking!” said the rector, aghast. ”But when? I saw him only this morning.”

”It has just happened,” said his father, following down the column of the newspaper as he spoke, ”this morning, at the university, in his cla.s.sroom, at a lecture. Dear me, how dreadful! I must go and see the president at once.”