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.
He had to control his impatience until after eleven o'clock, the hour
of the service at the church. Sophie wished to go with him and share his
peril, but he would not consent to this. He would not be able to give
the manifesto to everyone, but he could reach enough--the others would
hear about it! So, a full hour before the end of the service, he took up
his post across the street, his heart beating furiously. He was feeling,
it must be confessed, a good deal like a dynamiter or an assassin. The
weather was warm, and the door of the church was open, so that he could
hear the booming voice of Dr. Vince. The sound of the organ brought
tears into his eyes--he loved the organ, and he was not to be allowed to
listen to it! At last came the end; the sounds of the choir receded, and
the assassin moved over to a strategic position. And then came the first
of the congregation--of all persons, the Olympian Mr. Curtis!
“Will you take one of these, sir?” said Samuel, with his heart in
his throat. And Mr. Curtis who was mopping his forehead with his
handkerchief, started as if he had seen a ghost. “Boy, what are you
doing?” he cried; but Samuel had darted away, trying to give out the
slips of paper to the people as they came out at both doors. He was
quite right in saying that everybody would know about it. The people
took the slips and read them, and then they stopped to stare and exclaim
to one another, so that there was a regular blockade at the doors of
the church. By the time that a score of the slips had been given out
the members had had time to get their wits back, and then there was an
attempt to interfere.
“This is an outrage!” cried Mr. Curtis, and tried to grab Samuel by the
arm; but the boy wrenched himself loose and darted around the corner, to
where a stream of people had come out of the side door.
“Take one!” he exclaimed. “Pass it along! Let everyone know!” And so he
got rid of a score or two more of his slips. And then, keeping a wary
lookout for Mr. Curtis or any other of the vestrymen, he ran around in
front again, and circled on the edge of the rapidly gathering throng,
giving away several of the dodgers wherever a hand was held out. “Give
them to everyone!” he kept repeating in his shrill voice.
“The evil-doers must be turned out of the church!”
Then suddenly out of the crowd pushed Mr. Hamerton, breathless and red
in the face. “Samuel!” he cried, pouncing upon him, “this cannot go on!”
“But it must go on!” replied the boy. “Let me go! Take your hands off
me!” And he raised his voice in a wild shriek. “There are thieves in the
church of Christ!”
In the scuffle the dodgers were scattered on the ground; and Mr.
Hamerton stooped to pick them up. Samuel seized what he could and darted
to the side door again, where there were more people eager to take them.
And so he got rid of the last he had. And for the benefit of those whom
he still saw emerging, he raised his hands and shouted: “There are
men in the vestry of this church who have bribed the city council of
Lockmanville! I mean to expose them in a meeting across the street on
Wednesday night!” And then he turned, and dodging an outraged church
member who sought to lay hold of him, he sped like a deer down the
street.
He had made his appeal to the congregation!