“No. But there are a lot of things in the Bible that we never know about till the time comes that we need them. I have found that out.... Listen!” For the president was speaking again.
“Ladies, I am glad to say that the text I hold in my hand is the last. I will read it myself. Mrs. Haloran says: “I send this final word from the Mosaic Law, and I beg that the First Church may take it as a message from all its representatives in the mission field, and from Him we serve:
“‘Thou shalt not oppress an hired servant that is poor and needy.... At his day thou shalt give him his hire, neither shall the sun go down upon it.” Deuteronomy xxiv. 14, 15.
Before Mrs. McArthur had ended the reading the treasurer was on her feet.
“At last, ladies, in my judgment, we have got at the root of the matter. You will find that this minister’s salary has not been paid him; now mark my words! And his wife is smarting under a sense of injustice that we should try to supply that deficiency with a barrel of rags.”
“Well, I should like to know why it hasn’t been paid,” said a well-groomed woman, with some severity. “What do we have a Board for if it isn’t to attend to such things?”
“The Board,” explained the treasurer with alarming succinctness, “is our agent for disbursing the funds of this church—and others. It cannot honestly pay out what we have not paid in. If you really want to know why this man’s salary has not been paid, I will read the delinquent list of this church. Is there a call?”
There was none.
The president tapped. “Ladies, I have not finished the note. Mrs. Haloran continues:
“‘I return the barrel as it was sent, with one exception. In it I found a little half-worn suit with these words pinned to it:’”—a sad-eyed woman in black, who had been listening with strained attention, dropped her face in her hands—“‘It was my little boy’s that is gone.’ I cried over that little suit. I knew what it cost her to send it. And I accept it as from a sister of the blood. May God bless her and comfort her sad heart.’”