"Of course it can't, my dear Mrs. Falk," replied the pastor, with an ambiguous smile, which nearly reduced Mrs. Falk to tears. "But don't let us spoil a splendid enterprise by quarrelling over trifles, ladies! We'll postpone the printing until the funds are larger. We have seen the young enterprise shooting up like a seed and we have seen that powerful hands are willing to tend the young plant; but we must think of the future. The Society has a fund; the fund must be administered; in other words, we must look round for an administrator, a practical man, able to transform these presents into hard cash; we must elect a treasurer. I'm afraid we shall not find one without a sacrifice of money—does one ever get anything without such a sacrifice? Have the ladies anybody in view?"
No, the ladies had not thought of it.
"Then may I propose a young man of steady character, who in my opinion is just the right person for the work? Has the Administrative Committee any objection to appointing secretary Ekelund to the post of treasurer at a suitable salary?"
The ladies had no objection to make, especially as the young man was recommended by the Rev. Nathanael Skore; and the Pastor felt the more qualified to recommend him because he was a near relative of his. And so the Crèche had a treasurer with a salary of six hundred crowns.
"Ladies," began the pastor again, "have we worked long enough in the vineyard for one day?"
There was silence. Mrs. Falk stared at the door wondering where her husband was.
"My time's short and I'm prevented from staying any longer. Has anybody any further suggestion to make? No! In calling down the blessing of the Lord on our enterprise, which has begun so auspiciously, I commend all of us to His loving mercy; I cannot do it in a better way than by repeating the words which He Himself has taught us when He prayed: 'Abba, Father—Our Father....'"
He was silent as if he were afraid of the sound of his own voice, and the Committee covered their faces with their hands as if they were ashamed of looking each other in the eyes. The ensuing pause grew long, unbearably long; yet no one dared to break it; every one looked through the fingers hoping that someone else would make the first move, when a violent pull at the front door bell brought the party down to earth.
The pastor took his hat and emptied his glass; there was something about him of a man who is trying to steal away. Mrs. Falk beamed, for here was the crushing, the vengeance, the rehabilitation.
Revenge was there and the crushing too, for the footman handed her a letter from her husband which contained—the guests were not enlightened as to its contents, but they saw enough to make them declare at once that they had pressing engagements.