“Madam President,” said one a little more obtuse, “that is a very singular communication. It doesn’t tell us at all why the barrel was returned.”
“The barrel will explain itself,” returned the president, grimly, “and will also interpret the letter. We will do exactly as Mrs. Haloran requests—take an inventory and listen to the Scripture messages. The secretary will read.”
Then a most unprecedented thing (for a Missionary meeting) occurred. The ladies in the back part of the room came forward.
The president drew from the barrel the same promising hat-box that we have seen, and the women craned their necks. Black velvet and plumes flitted through their brains too, as for one blissful moment they had through the mind of the woman on the plains. Mrs. McArthur handed a slip of paper to her assistant and held up to the astonished gaze of her audience—the old Leghorn.
“‘God loveth a cheerful giver,’” read Mrs. Wellman.
There was a burst of laughter in which the donor joined—but with dry lips.
A second box was drawn forth. It elicited another laugh, somewhat less spontaneous than the first, for it was a child’s summer hat trimmed with forget-me-nots.
“‘He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord,’” read Mrs. Wellman, adding sarcastically: “How many loans the Lord needs, ladies, of this particular variety, I don’t know. Not many, I should think.”
“There are others,” said the president, unconsciously lapsing into slang, and holding up in each hand a man’s dust-grimed straw hat. The secretary read tellingly:
“‘And the Levite that is within thy gates; thou shalt not forsake him.’”