Part 3 (1/2)
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 b.u.t.terflies who gather there, when there is so much to be done, and precious souls to be helped and saved?”
”But the b.u.t.terflies, of whom you speak so contemptuously, need to be helped as well.”
”No one knows that better than I do,” Douglas bitterly a.s.sented. ”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 amus.e.m.e.nts, 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?”