A MATTER OF BUSINESS
"'You say, sir, that some things are inevitable. You are right.'"
At the church prayer meeting, that evening, Judge Strong prayed with a
fervor unusual even for him, and in church circles the Elder was rated
mighty in prayer. In fact the Judge's religious capital was mostly
invested in good, safe, public petitions to the Almighty--such
investments being rightly considered by the Judge as "gilt-edged,"
for--whatever the returns--it was all profit.
Theoretically the Judge's God noted "even the sparrow's fall," and in
all of his public religious exercises, the Judge stated that fact with
clearness and force. Making practical application of his favorite text
the Judge never killed sparrows. His everyday energies were spent in
collecting mortgages, acquiring real estate, and in like harmless
pursuits, that were--so far as he had observed--not mentioned in the
Word, and presumably, therefore, were passed over by the God of the
sparrow.
So the Judge prayed that night, with pious intonations asking his God
for everything he could think of for himself, his church, his town and
the whole world. And when he could think of no more blessings, he
unblushingly asked God to think of them for him, and to give them all
abundantly--more than they could ask or desire. Reminding God of his
care for the sparrow, he pleaded with him to watch over their beloved
pastor, "who is absent from his flock in search of--ah, enjoying--ah,
the beauties of Nature--ah, and bring him speedily back to his needy
people, that they may all grow strong in the Lord."
Supplementing his prayer with a few solemn reflections, as was expected
from an Elder of the church, the Judge commented on the smallness of the
company present; lamented the decline of spirituality in the churches;
declared the need for the old Jerusalem gospel, and the preaching of the
truth as it is in Christ Jesus; scored roundly those who were absent,
seeking their own pleasure, neglecting their duties while the world was
perishing; and finished with a plea to the faithful to assist their
worthy pastor--who, unfortunately, was not present with them that
evening--in every way possible. Then the Judge went home to occupy the
rest of the evening with some matters of business.
In the Strong mansion the room known as the library is on the ground
floor in a wing of the main building. As rooms have a way of doing, it
expresses unmistakably the character of its tenant. There is a book-case,
with a few spick-and-span books standing in prim, cold rows behind the
glass doors--which are always locked. The key is somewhere, no doubt.
There are no pictures on the walls, save a fancy calendar--presented with
the compliments of the Judge's banker, a crayon portrait of the Judge's
father--in a cheap gilt frame, and another calendar, compliments of the
Judge's grocer.
The furniture and appointments are in harmony; a table, with a teachers'
Bible and a Sunday school quarterly, a big safe wherein the Judge kept
his various mortgages and papers of value, and the Judge's desk, being
most conspicuous. It is a significant comment on the Elder's business
methods that, in the top right-hand drawer of his desk, he keeps a weapon
ready for instant use, and that the window shades are always drawn when
the lamps are lighted.
Sitting at his desk the Judge heard the front doorbell ring and his wife
direct someone to the library. A moment later he looked up from his
papers to see Dan standing before him.
The Judge was startled. He had thought the young man far away. Then, too,
the Judge had never seen the minister dressed in rough trousers, belted
at the waist; a flannel shirt under a torn and mud-stained coat; and
mud-spattered boots that came nearly to his hips. The slouch hat in the
visitor's hand completed the picture. Dan looked big in any garb. As the
Judge saw him that night he seemed a giant, and this giant had the look
of one come in haste on business of moment.
What was it that made the Judge reach out impulsively toward that top
right-hand drawer.
Forcing his usual dry, mirthless laugh, he greeted Dan with forced
effusiveness, urging him to take a chair, declaring that he hardly knew
him, that he thought he was at Gordon's Mills fishing. Then he entered at
once into a glowing description of the splendid prayer meeting they had
held that evening, in the minister's absence.
Ignoring the invitation to be seated, Dan walked slowly to the center of
the room, and standing by the table, looked intently at the man at the
desk. The patter of the Judge's talk died away. The presence of the man
by the table seemed to fill the whole room. The very furniture became
suddenly cheap and small. The Judge himself seemed to shrink, and he had
a sense of something about to happen. Swiftly he reviewed in his mind
several recent deals. What was it?
"Well," he said at last, when Dan did not speak, "won't you sit down?"
"Thank you, no," answered Dan. "I can stop only a minute. I called to see
you about that mortgage on Widow Mulhall's home."
"Ah! Well?"
"I want to ask you, sir, if it is not possible for you to reconsider the
matter and grant her a little more time."
The man at the desk answered curtly, "Possibly, sir, but it would not be
business. Do you--ah, consider this matter as coming under the head of
your--ah, pastoral duties?"
Dan ignored the question, as he earnestly replied, "I will undertake to
see that the mortgage is paid, sir, if you will give me a little time."
To which the other answered coldly, "My experience with ministers'
promises to pay has not been reassuring, and, as an Elder in the church,
I may say that we do not employ you to undertake the payment of other
people's debts. The people might not understand your interest in the
Widow's affairs."
Again Dan ignored the other's answer, though his face went white, and his
big hands crushed the slouch hat with a mighty grip. He urged what it
would mean to Deborah and her crippled son to lose their little home and
the garden--almost their only means of support. But the face of the Judge
expressed no kindly feeling. He was acting in a manner that was fully
legitimate. He had considered it carefully. As for the hardship, some
things in connection with business were inevitable.
As the Elder answered Dan's arguments and pleadings, the minister's face
grew very sad, and his low, slow voice trembled at times. When the
uselessness of his efforts were too evident for him to continue the
conversation he turned sadly toward the door.
Something caused the Judge to say, "Don't go yet, Brother Matthews. You
see, being a minister, there are some things that you don't understand.
You are making a mistake in--" He caught his breath. Instead of leaving
the room, Dan was closing and locking the door.
He came back in three quick strides. This time he placed his hat on the
table. When he spoke his voice was still low--intense--shaken with
feeling.
"You say, sir, that some things are inevitable. You are right."
There was that in his manner now that made the man in the chair tremble.
He started to speak, but Dan silenced him.
"You have said quite enough, sir. Don't think that I have not fully
considered this matter. I have. It is inevitable. Turn to your desk there
and write a letter to Mrs. Mulhall granting her another year of time."
The Judge tried to laugh, but his dry lips made a strange sound. With a
quick movement he jerked open the top right-hand drawer, but before he
could lay hand on the weapon, Dan leaped to within easy striking
distance.
"Shut that drawer!"
The Judge obeyed.
"Now write!"
"I'll have the law on you! I'll put you out of the Christian ministry!
I'll have you arrested if you assault me. I'll--"
"I have considered all that, too," said Dan. "Try it, and you will stir
up such a feeling that the people of this community will drive you out of
the country. You can't do it and live in Corinth, Judge Strong. You have
too much at stake in this town to risk it. You won't have me arrested for
this; you can't afford it, sir. Write that letter and no one but you and
I will ever know of this incident. Refuse, or fail to keep the promise of
your letter, and no power on earth shall prevent me from administering
justice! You who would rob that crippled boy of his garden--"
The man shuddered. Suddenly he opened his mouth to call. But Dan, reading
his purpose in his eyes, had him by the throat before he could utter a
sound.
This was enough.
With the letter in his pocket Dan stood silently regarding his now
cowering victim, and his deep voice was full of pain as he said, in that
slow way, "I regret this incident, Brother Strong, more than I can say.
I have no apology to make. It was inevitable. You have my word that no
one shall know, from me, what has occurred here this evening. When you
think it all over you will not carry the matter further. You cannot
afford it. You will see that you cannot afford it."
When the Judge lifted his head he was alone.
"Did I keep you waiting too long?" asked Dan, when he had again taken
his place by Miss Farwell's side.
"Oh no! But tell me: is it all right?"
"Yes, it's all right. Judge Strong has kindly granted our friends another
year. That will give us time to do something."
Arriving at the house he gave Hope the letter for Deborah. "And here," he
said, "is something for you." From under the buggy seat he drew the big
bass.
When Dan returned to Gordon's Mills with the team the next morning, he
gave back the Doctor's check, saying simply, "The Judge listened to
reason and decided that he would not press the case." And that was all
the explanation he ever made though it was by no means the end of the
matter.
Dan himself did not realize what he had done. He did not realize how
potent were the arguments that he had used to convince the Judge.
The young minister had at last furnished the motive for which the Ally
waited!