CONSCIENCE MONEY
The rector of St. Margaret's was visibly annoyed as he hung up the
telephone receiver. "Confound that fellow," he muttered, "where can he
be? I have phoned to him six times and can get no answer. I shall not
call him again. I'm really glad he's going for he gets on my nerves
with all his odd notions." Turning to his desk, he continued his work
upon his sermon for next Sunday morning.
It was a large, comfortable study, and the walls were well lined with
books. Dr. Rannage was noted far and wide as a deep student, as well
as a great preacher. The people of St. Margaret's were proud of their
rector's ability, and listened, so they often told him, with delight to
his intellectual sermons. He was particularly at home when dealing
with the Major and Minor Prophets or on the Textual Criticism of the
Bible. Regular Pastoral Visitation he disliked, and left most of such
work to his curate, though occasionally he called upon the most
influential members of his flock. He was a special favourite in social
circles, and being a brilliant afterdinner speaker he was much in
demand to grace numerous festive gatherings. Little wonder, then, that
Dr. Rannage had no time for anything else but the preparation of his
Sunday sermons, of which work he was very fond.
To-night, however, he could not concentrate his thoughts upon his
subject. His mind would wander, and several times he found himself
thinking of the dinner he had that evening with his Bishop. He knew
that the position of Archdeacon was vacant, and he was fondly hoping
that he would be favoured with the appointment. It would be another
step, so he mused, up the ecclesiastical ladder leading to the
Episcopate.
He had forgotten all about his sermon and was thinking deeply of the
prospects of his advancement, when his curate, Douglas Stanton, entered
the room unannounced.
"You are over half an hour late, Stanton," Dr. Rannage chided, as he
motioned his visitor to a chair. "What is the meaning of this?"
"I am very sorry," Douglas replied, as he took the proffered chair. "I
intended to be here on time, but was unavoidably detained."
"I dined with the Bishop to-night," and Dr. Rannage toyed with a small
paper-weight as he spoke, "and was forced to leave in the midst of a
most important discussion in order to keep my appointment with you."
"What were you discussing?" Douglas enquired.
"We were considering the best methods of dealing with the submerged
population of our city; that is, those unfortunate beings who inhabit
the slums and the waterfront."
"Did you arrive at any definite conclusion?"
"We had not time; for, as I have just mentioned, I was forced to come
away to meet you."
"And while you were discussing methods of helping the unfortunate, I
was rescuing one from the water down at Long Wharf."
Douglas spoke slowly, and he watched to see the effect of his words.
But Dr. Rannage did not seem to notice the implied sarcasm, nor the
sharp contrast between theory and practice.
"So that is what you were doing, eh?" the latter questioned. "You seem
to enjoy being down there."
"I enjoy helping the unfortunate, and because I am not allowed to
continue the work, I have sent in my resignation."
"But you must remember that you have a duty to the parish as a whole,
and not to one portion of it only."
"Haven't I tried to do my duty? I have visited in season and out of
season, and worked like a dog for the two years I have been with you."
"But I have received complaints that you are unsociable, and that you
refuse all invitations to, ah, friendly gatherings and such like
affairs."
"You mean card-parties and afternoon teas, I suppose," Douglas sharply
replied. "If so, I plead guilty. Haven't I taken a keen interest in
the Boy Scouts, the Young Men's Club, the Sunday School, and dear knows
what? Any spare time I had I spent at the water-front in an effort to
follow my Master's example of putting my religion into practice. How
dare I waste my time sipping tea at this house and that, and talking
nice little nothings to the butterflies who gather there, when there is
so much to be done, and precious souls to be helped and saved?"
"But the butterflies, of whom you speak so contemptuously, need to be
helped as well."
"No one knows that better than I do," Douglas bitterly assented. "But
until they are willing to throw aside their vain pretensions of being
the salt of the earth and better than others, I am afraid little can be
done. They dislike me because I speak my mind too freely, and refuse
to waste my time at their senseless gatherings. They desire some one
who will flatter their vanity and condone their idleness."
"You are making serious charges, young man," Dr. Rannage severely
replied. His curate's words had hit him hard, and he winced, for he
knew how true they were. "If that is the feeling you entertain for
innocent amusements, it is just as well you should sever your
connection with this parish. When do you expect to leave?"
"At once."
"And where do you intend to go?"
"I have not the slightest idea. The future to me is a complete blank.
Something will turn up, I suppose. If not, I have two hands and a
strong body."
"Look here, Stanton," and Dr. Rannage swung suddenly around on his
swivel chair, "you must not get downhearted."
"I am not," was the reply.
"Well, perhaps you are not, but I do not like the idea of your going
from me with nothing in view. Do you know the parish of Rixton?"
"Yes, I have heard of it, though I know very little about it."
"It seems that it has been vacant for some time, and it is most
difficult to get any one to go there. By the way, I met Mr. Simon
Stubbles at dinner to-night. He is the leading man at Rixton, and the
Bishop and I were much impressed with him. He is very wealthy, so I
understand; has a large sawmill, and carries on extensive lumbering
operations. He is greatly concerned about the spiritual welfare of
Rixton, and is most anxious that a suitable clergyman should be sent
there. He is quite willing to contribute liberally if the right man is
found."
"Why did the last one leave?" Douglas asked.
"He was not big enough for the work, so I learned from the brief
conversation I had with Mr. Stubbles. It is a most difficult parish,
composed principally of mill-men, woodsmen, and a few farmers. It
seems that the last clergyman used no tact at all in dealing with them,
and thus antagonised everybody, Mr. Stubbles included."
"So you think that I would suit, do you?" and Douglas looked
quizzically at Dr. Rannage.
"I believe you are just the man for the place."
"What makes you think so?"
"Because you know the ways of such people. You were born in the
country, were you not?"
"Why not let young Harmon have a try there? He is one of your boys,
and has just been ordained. Would it not be well for him to win his
spurs in a parish such as Rixton?"
"Oh, but he is a banker's son, you know, and we could not think of
sending him there."
"So I supposed," was the bitter reply, "though I never for a moment
imagined that you would so candidly acknowledge it."
"Acknowledge what?" Dr. Rannage queried.
"That because Harmon is a banker's son he would not be sent to an
out-of-the-way country parish. His father is influential and can
influence those in authority, so he is booked for an important charge
in Silverton, so I understand. I am merely the son of a poor, honest
farmer, and so any old place will do for me."
"See here, young man, you have no right to talk that way," Dr. Rannage
retorted. "If you continue, I shall be compelled to report you to the
Bishop."
"Report all you like, but you both know it's true, and you cannot deny
it. Harmon barely scraped through college, but he is considered a
gentleman's son, and understands the ways of polite society. Mark my
words, his career will be followed with great interest, and everything
he does will be noted and favourably commented upon. It will not be
long before he will be an Archdeacon, or a Dean, and finally a Bishop."
"Are you jealous of Harmon?" Dr. Rannage asked. "That is the only
conclusion I can draw from your sarcastic remarks."
"Jealousy has nothing to do with it," was the quick reply. "It is
merely justice that I demand, a right for every man to be judged
according to what he is and does, irrespective of what his father is,
or any influence he may exert. The Church is the last place where such
injustice should be allowed. But, there, what is the use of my talking
to you or any one else, when you attribute my feeling to jealousy?"
Douglas had risen, and stood with his hat in his hand ready to depart.
"So you don't feel inclined to try Rixton, then?" Dr. Rannage asked.
He was quite amused at his curate's words, and considered them merely
the outburst of a hot-headed youth. Douglas noted this, and with a
great effort controlled himself.
"I shall consider the matter very carefully," was his reply. "If I
decide to go, I shall report to the Bishop."
"Wait a minute," Dr. Rannage ordered as Douglas was about to leave the
room. "There is something I almost overlooked. You received your
cheque for last month, I suppose?"
"Yes, the treasurer gave it to me several days ago."
"There was a meeting of the vestry last night, and I mentioned that you
had sent in your resignation," Dr. Rannage explained.
"And I suppose all the members were delighted with the news."
"Why should they? They are all business men, and look well after the
temporalities of St. Margaret's. They paid tribute to your earnest
work, and as a token of appreciation they asked me to give you this,"
and Dr. Rannage handed the young man a cheque. "I think this will
prove to you better than many words how generous the members of the
vestry really are."
Douglas took the cheque in his hand and studied it very carefully. In
fact, he looked at it so long without saying anything that Dr. Rannage
was surprised.
"Are you not satisfied with it?" he curtly asked, noting the flush
which was slowly stealing over Douglas' face. "I took it upon myself
to ask something for you, thinking that it would give you considerable
pleasure."
"I am not considering the amount of the cheque," Douglas replied, "but
something far more important. St. Margaret's is a rich church, is it
not?"
"Yes, I suppose so," was the reluctant assent.
"The richest in the city?"
"Yes. But what has that to do with that cheque?" Dr. Rannage angrily
retorted.
"It is heavily endowed, and there was a big surplus last Easter,
according to the Year Book," Douglas continued, unheeding his rector's
annoyance.
"We have good business men on the vestry," Dr. Rannage proudly
explained, "and that is the main reason why we are in such excellent
financial condition. They have been most careful to invest all moneys
where they bring in big returns."
"What did they give me this for, then?" Douglas asked as he held forth
the cheque. "It must have wrung their souls to part with one hundred
dollars for nothing."
"Oh, that was given merely out of appreciation for your good work in
the parish."
"Since when have they become appreciative?"
"Why, haven't they been always so?"
"If they were, they never showed any signs of it. It seemed to me just
the opposite, especially when I asked them for a few hundred dollars
last fall to rent a building as a shelter for the unfortunate on the
water-front. They told me pretty plainly what they thought of my
'new-fangled notion,' as they called it."
"They were merely cautious, that was all," Dr. Rannage defended. "As I
told you, they are all good business men, and they wished to be sure
that the investment would, ah----"
"Pay," Douglas assisted, as his rector hesitated. "Yes, that was just
it. They thought it wouldn't pay in dollars and cents, so they refused
to have anything to do with it. The return in lives helped and souls
saved did not trouble them in the least. But now, when they know that
I am going, perhaps they may have had a twinge of conscience; that is,
if they have any, and what they have given me is nothing more than
conscience money."
These words brought Dr. Rannage suddenly to his feet. He had always
prided himself upon his self-control, but such a charge made by any
man, especially a mere curate, was more than he could endure.
"What do you mean by talking that way?" he demanded. "Ever since you
entered this room you have been as ugly as----"
"The devil," Douglas assisted as Dr. Rannage paused. "You might as
well say it as think it. If telling the truth, and telling it plainly
is being ugly, then I plead guilty. I question if what I have said
will be of any benefit to you, but it has done a great deal of good to
me. It has somewhat relieved my mind, and that is worth something."
"You will relieve my mind, if you will go," Dr. Rannage retorted. "It
is absolutely ridiculous that I should be talked to in this manner,
especially after what I have done for you."
"Oh, you mean this?" and Douglas glanced at the cheque. "Well, then, I
wish to show you and the members of the vestry how I value such, ahem,
appreciation. Look!"
Holding the cheque up with both hands, he deliberately tore it into
bits, and then, crossing the room, he threw the pieces into the
fireplace.
"There, I feel better now," he quietly remarked. "So, good-night."
Before Dr. Rannage could recover from his astonishment, the study door
opened and closed, and Douglas Stanton was gone.