As the special meetings at the church went on, Deacon Quickset began to
fear that he had made a mistake. He had taken an active part in all
previous meetings of the same kind for more than twenty-five years. The
results of some of them had been very satisfactory, and the deacon
modestly but nevertheless with much self-gratulation had recounted his
own services in all of them.
"Whoso converteth a sinner from the error of his ways shall save a soul
from death and cover a multitude of sins; that is what the good book
says," said the deacon to himself one day, as he walked from his house
to his place of business; "and considering the number of people that I
have helped to snatch as brands from the burning, it does seem to me
that I must have covered a good many sins of my own,--such as they are.
I'm only a human being, and a poor, weak, and sinful creature, but
there's certainly a good many folks in this town that would not have
started in the right way when they did if it hadn't been for what I
said to them. Now, here's the biggest movement of the kind going on
that ever was known in this town, and I'm out of it. What for? Just
because I don't agree with Sam Kimper. I mean, just because Sam Kimper
don't agree with me. I don't suppose the thing would have come to
anything, anyhow, if it hadn't been for that fool of a young lawyer
setting his foot in it in the way he did. Everybody likes excitement,
and it's a bigger thing for him to have gone into this protracted
meeting than it would be for a circus to come to town with four new
elephants. It's rough."
The deacon took a few papers from his pocket, looked them over, his
face changing from grave to puzzled and from puzzled to angry and back
again through a whole gamut of facial expressions. Finally, he thrust
the entire collection back into his pocket, and said to himself,--
"If he keeps on at that work, I may have as much trouble as he let on
that I would. I don't see how some of these things are going to be
settled unless I have him to help me; and if he's going to be as
particular as he makes out, or as he did make out the other day,
there's going to be trouble, just as sure as both of us are alive. Of
course, the more prominent he is before the public, the less he'll want
to be in any case in court that takes hard fighting, particularly when
he don't think he's on the popular side. And there's that Mrs. Poynter
that's been bothering me to death about the interest on her mortgage: I
keep hearing that she's at the meetings every night, and that she never
lets an evening pass without speaking to Bartram. Maybe all she's
talking about is some sinner or other that she wants to have saved; but
if she acts with him as she does with me, I'm awfully afraid that she's
consulting him about that interest.
"I didn't think it was the right time of the year to start special
meetings, anyhow; and I don't know what our minister did it for without
consulting the deacons. He never did such a thing in his life before.
It does seem to me that once in a while everything goes crosswise, and
it all happens just when I need most of all to have things go along
straight and smooth. Gracious! if some of these papers in my pocket
don't work the way they ought to, I don't know how things are going to
come out."
The deacon had almost reached the business street as this soliloquy
went on, but he seemed inclined to carry on his conversation with
himself: so he deliberately turned about and slowly paced the way
backward towards his home.
"I shouldn't wonder," said he, after a few moments of silence, in
which his mind seemed busily occupied,--"I shouldn't wonder if that was
the best way out, after all. I do believe I'll do it. Yes, I will do
it. I'll go and buy out that shoe-shop of Larry Highgetty's, and I'll
let Sam Kimper have it at just what it costs, and trust him for all the
purchase-money. I don't believe the good-will of the place and all the
stock that is in it will cost over a couple of hundred dollars; and
Larry would take my note at six months almost as quick as he'd take
anybody else's money. If things go right I can pay the note, and if
they don't he can get the property back. But in the meantime folks
won't be able to say anything against me. They can't say then that I'm
down on Sam, like some of them say now, and if anybody talks about
Bartram and the upper-crust folks that have been helping the meetings
along, I can just remind them that talk is cheap and that it's money
that tells. I'll do it, as sure as my name's Quickset; and the quicker
I do it the better it will be for me, if I'm not mistaken."
The deacon hurried off to the shoe-store. As usual, the only occupant
of the shop was Sam.
"Where's Larry, Sam?" asked the deacon, briskly.
"I don't know, sir," said Sam, "but I'm afraid he's at Weitz's
beer-shop."
"Well, Sam," said the deacon, trying to be pleasant, though his mouth
was very severely set, "while you're in the converting line,--which I
hear you're doing wonders at, and I'm very glad to hear it,--why don't
you begin at home and bring about a change in Larry?"
"Do you know, deacon," said Sam, "I was thinkin' about the same thing?
and I'm goin' to see that priest of his about--"
"Oh, Sam!" groaned the deacon. "The idea of going to see a Catholic
priest about a fellow-man's salvation, when there's a special meeting
running in our own church and you've taken such an interest in it!"
"Every man for his own, deacon," said Sam. "I don't believe Larry cares
anythin' about the church that you belong to, an' that I've been goin'
to for some little time, an' I know he thinks a good deal of Father
Black. I've found out myself, after a good deal of trouble in this
world, that it makes a good deal of difference who talks to you about
such things. Now, he thinks Father Black is the best man there is in
the world. I don't know anythin' about that, though I don't know of
anybody in this town I ever talked to that left me feelin' more
comfortable an' looked more like a good man himself than that old
priest did one day when he come in here an' talked to me very kindly.
Why, deacon, he didn't put on any airs at all. He talked just as if he
was a good brother of mine, an' he left me feelin' that if I wasn't
good I was a brother of his anyhow. That's more than I can say most
other folks in this town ever did, deacon."
The deacon was so horrified at this unexpected turn of the conversation
that for a little while he entirely forgot the purpose for which he had
come. But he was recalled to his senses by the entrance of Reynolds
Bartram. His eyes met the lawyer's, and at once the deacon looked
defiant. Then he pulled himself together, and, with a mighty effort,
remarked,--
"Sam, some folks say I am down on you, and that I don't sympathize with
you. Some folks talk a good deal for you, and to you, and don't do
anything for you. But I just came in this morning for the sole purpose
of saying this: You've had a hard row to hoe, and you've worked at it
first rate ever since you got out of jail. I've been watching you,
though perhaps you don't know it, and I came here to say that I believe
so much in your having had a change--though I do insist you haven't
gone far enough--I came around to say that I was going to buy out this
place from Larry, and give it to you at your own terms, so that you can
make all the money that comes in."
Sam looked up in astonishment at the lawyer. The lawyer looked down
smilingly at the deacon, who was seated on a very low bench, and
said,--
"Deacon, we're all a good, deal alike in this world in one respect: our
best thoughts come too late. I don't hesitate to say that some good
thoughts, which I have heard you urge upon other people but which you
never mentioned to me, have come to me a deal later than they should.
But, on the other hand, this matter of making Sam the master of this
shop has already been attended to. I've bought it for him myself, and
made him a free and clear present of it last night in token of the
immense amount of good which he has done me by personal example."
"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the deacon.
"I don't mind saying," continued the lawyer, "that if _you_ will go to
work and do me half as much good, I will buy just as much property and
make you a free and clear present of it. I am open to all possible
benefits of that kind nowadays, and willing to pay for them, so far as
money will go, to the full extent of my income and capital." The deacon
arose and looked about him in a dazed sort of fashion. Then he looked
at the lawyer inquiringly, put his hand in his pocket, drew forth a
mass of business papers, shuffled them over once more, looked again at
the lawyer, and said,--
"Mr. Bartram, I've got some particular business with you that I would
like to talk about at once. Would you mind coming to my office, or
taking me around to yours?"
"Not at all. Good luck, Sam," said the lawyer. "Good day."
The two men went out together. No sooner were they outside the shop
than the deacon said, rapidly,--
"Reynolds Bartram, my business affairs are in the worst possible
condition. You know more about them than anybody else. You have done as
much as anybody else to put them in the muddle that they're in now. You
helped me into them, and now, church or no church, religion or no
religion, you've got to help me out of them, or I've got to go to the
devil. Now, what are you going to do about it?"
"Is it as bad as that?" murmured the lawyer.
"Yes, it's as bad as that, and I could put it a good deal stronger if
it was necessary. Everything has been going wrong. That walnut timber
tract over on the creek, that I expected to get about five thousand
dollars out of, isn't worth five thousand cents. Since the last time I
was over there some rascal stole every log that was worth taking, and
the place wouldn't bring under the hammer half what I gave for it. I
have been trying to sell it, but somehow everybody that wanted it
before has found out what has been going on. This is an awfully mean
world on business-men that don't look out for themselves all the time."
"I should not think you had ever any right to complain of it, deacon,"
said the lawyer.
"Come, come, now," said the deacon, "I'm not in any condition to be
tormented to-day, Reynolds,--I really ain't. I'm almost crazy. I
suppose old Mrs. Poynter has been at you to get her interest-money out
of me, hasn't she?"
"Hasn't spoken a word to me about it," said the lawyer.
"Well, I heard she was after you every night in the meeting--"
"She was after me, talking about one sinner or another of her
acquaintance, but she didn't mention you, deacon. It's a sad mistake,
perhaps, but in a big town like this a person can't think of everybody
at once, you know."
"For heaven's sake, Bartram, shut up, and tell me what I have to do.
Time is passing. I must have a lot of ready cash to-day, somehow, and
here are all these securities; the minute I try to sell them people go
to asking questions, and you're the only man they can come to. Now,
you know perfectly well what the arrangements and understandings were
when these papers were drawn, because you drew them all yourself. Now,
if people come to you I want you to promise me that you're not going to
go back on me."
The deacon still held the papers in his hand, gesticulating with them.
As he spoke, the lawyer took them, looked at them, and finally said,--
"Deacon, how much money do you need?"
"I can't get through," said the deacon, "with less than nine hundred
dollars ready cash, or first-class checks and notes, this very day."
"Humph!" said the lawyer, still handling the papers. "Deacon, I'll make
you a straightforward proposition concerning that money. If you will
agree that I shall be agent of both parties in any settlement of these
agreements which I hold in my hand, and that you will accept me as sole
and final arbitrator in any differences of opinion between you and the
signers, I will agree personally to lend you the amount you need, on
your simple note of hand, renewable from time to time until you are
ready to pay it."
"Ray Bartram," exclaimed the deacon, stopping short and looking the
lawyer full in the face, "what on earth has got into you?"
"Religion, I guess, deacon," said the lawyer. "Try it yourself: it'll
do you good."
The lawyer walked off briskly, and left the deacon standing alone in
the street. As the deacon afterwards explained the matter to his wife,
he felt like a stuck pig.