Robert Kimberly. Spearman Frank Hamilton
out hishandkerchief instead-glancing toward Kimberly as herubbed his nose vigorously to see if his slip hadbeen detected.
Needless to say it had been-less than thatwould not have escaped Kimberly, and he wasalready enjoying the momentary discomfiture.Sugar at that moment saw a squirrel runningdown the walk and tore after him.
Francis with simple dignity took the emptysnuff-box from the table and put it back in hispocket. His composure was restored and theincident to him was closed.
Kimberly understood him so well that it was nothard to turn the talk to a congenial subject. "Idrove past the college the other day. I see yourpeople are doing some building."
Francis shrugged his shoulders. "A laundry, Robert."
"Not a big building, is it?"
"We must go slow."
"It is over toward where you said the academyought to go."
"My poor academy! They do not think itwill ever come."
"You have more buildings now than you havestudents. What do you want with more buildings?"
"No, no. We have three hundred students-threehundred now." Francis looked at hisquestioner with eyes fiercely eager. "That isthe college, Robert. The academy is somethingelse-for what I told you."
"What did you tell me?" Kimberly lighteda cigar and Francis began again to explain.
"This is it: Our Sisters in the city take nowsixteen hundred boys from seven to eight yearsold. These boys they pick up from the orphancourts, from the streets, from the poor parents.When these boys are twelve the Sisters cannotkeep them longer, they must let them go and takein others.
"Here we have our college and these boys areready for it when they are sixteen. But, betweenare four fatal years-from twelve to sixteen. Ifwe had a school for such boys, think what wecould do. They would be always in hand; now, they drift away. They must go to work in thecity filth and wickedness. Ah, they need theprotection we could give them in those terriblefour years, Robert. They need the training inthose years to make of them mechanics andartisans-to give them a chance, to help them to domore than drift without compass or rudder-doyou not see?
"Those boys that are bright, that we find readyto go further, they are ready at sixteen for ourcollege; we keep and educate them. But theothers-the greater part-at sixteen would leaveus, but trained to earn. And strengthenedduring those four critical years against evil. Ah!"
Francis paused. He spoke fast and with anintensity that absorbed him.
Kimberly, leaning comfortably back, sat withone foot resting on his knee. He knocked theash of his cigar upon the heel of his shoe ashe listened-sometimes hearing Francis's words, sometimes not. He had heard all of them beforeat one time or another; the plea was not new tohim, but he liked the fervor of it.
"Ah! It is not for myself that I beg." BrotherFrancis's hands fell resignedly on his knees. "Itis for those poor boys, to keep them, Robert, fromgoing to hell-from hell in this world and in thenext. To think of it makes me always sorrowful-itmakes a beggar of me-a willing beggar."
Kimberly moved his cigar between his lips.
"But where shall I get so much money?"exclaimed Francis, helplessly. "It will take amillion dollars to do what we ought to do. You area great man, Robert; tell me, how shall I find it?"
"I can't tell you how to find it; I can tell youhow to make it."
"How?"
"Go into the sugar business."
"Then I must leave God's business."
"Francis, if you will pardon me, I think for aclever man you are in some respects a great fool.I am not joking. What I have often said aboutyour going into the sugar business, I repeat. Youwould be worth ten thousand dollars a year to me, and I will pay you that much any day."
Francis looked at Kimberly as if he were amadman, but contented himself with moving his headslowly from side to side in protest. "I cannotleave God's business, Robert. I must work forhim and pray to him for the money. Sometimeit will come."
"Then tell Uncle John to raise your wages,"suggested Kimberly, relapsing into indifference.
"Robert, will you not sometime give me a letterto introduce me to the great banker who comeshere, Hamilton?"
"He will not give you anything."
"He has so much money; how can he possiblyneed it all?"
"You forget, Francis, that nobody needs moneyso much as those that have it."
"Ah!"
"Hamilton may have no more money than Ihave, and you don't ask me for a million dollars."
"It is not necessary to ask you. You know Ineed it. If you could give it to me, you would."
"If I gave you a million dollars how should Iever get it back?"
Francis spoke with all seriousness. "God willpay you back."
"Yes, but when? That is a good deal of moneyto lend to God."
"It is a good deal."
"When do I get it back, and how?"
"He will surely pay you, Robert; God pays over there."
"That won't do-over there. It isn't honest."
Francis started. "Not honest?"
"You are offering deferred dividends, Francis.What would my stockholders say if I tried thatkind of business? Gad, they would drag me intocourt."
"Ah, yes! But, Robert; you pay for to-day: he pays for eternity."
Kimberly smoked a moment. "In a propositionof that kind, Francis, it seems to me the questionof guarantees is exceedingly important. You goodmen are safe enough; but where would the badmen come in on your eternal dividends?"
"You are not with the bad men, Robert. Yourheart is not bad. You are, perhaps, cruel-"
"What?"
"But generous. Sometime God will give youa chance."
"You mean, sometime I will give God a chance."
"No, Robert, what I say I mean-sometime,God will give you a chance."
Charles Kimberly's impatient voice was heardfrom the pergola.
"Robert! We've been waiting thirty minutes,"he stormed.
"I am just coming."
CHAPTER IX
That afternoon MacBirney played golf withCharles Kimberly. Toward five o'clock,Alice in one of the De Castro cars drove around toThe Hickories after him. When he came in, shewas sitting on the porch with a group of women, among them Fritzie Venable and Lottie Nelson.
"I must be very displeasing to Mrs. Nelson,"Alice said to her husband as they drove away."It upsets me completely to meet that woman."
"Why, what's the matter with her?" askedMacBirney, in a tone which professing friendlysurprise really implied that the grievance mightafter all be one of imagination.
"I haven't an idea," declared Alice a littleresentfully. "I am not conscious of having done athing to offend her."
"You are oversensitive."
"But, Walter, I can tell when people mean to be rude."
"What did Mrs. Nelson do that was rude?"asked her husband in his customary vein ofscepticism.
"She never does anything beyond ignoringme," returned Alice. "It must be, I think, thatshe and I instinctively detest each other. Theywere talking about a dinner and musicaleThursday night that Mr. Robert Kimberly is giving atThe Towers. Miss Venable said she supposedwe were going, and I had to say I really didn'tknow. We haven't been asked, have we?"
"Not that I know of."
"Mrs. Nelson looked at me when Fritzie spoke;I think it is the first time that she ever has lookedat me, except when she had to say 'good-morning'or 'good-evening.' I was confused a littlewhen I answered, I suppose; at any rate, sheenjoyed it. Mr. Kimberly would not leave us out, would he?"
"I