"That's the trouble. Don't! We'll tackle charity by easy steps. We'll begin by the very lowest form, in order to break in American Christians gradually. Feeding the hungry is spectacular and leads to the higher forms. Show people that you will not only fill their bellies, but send the caterer's bills direct to the Lord for payment, and the populace will supply not only the food-receptacles, but the stationery. A great deal," finished H. R., reflectively, "depends upon the right stationery."
"I fear," said the Bishop, uncomfortably, "that we are talking to each other across an impassable gulf."
"Not a bit, Bishop. The human intellect, properly directed, can bridge any chasm. Let us be philosophical." H. R. said this as one who proposes to speak in words of one syllable. "Now, good people—I don't mean you, Bishop; you know: good people!—always do everything wrong end foremost. Now, what do you, speaking collectively, do to feed the hungry?"
"We support St. George's Kitchens—"
"Ah yes, you astutely work to eliminate poverty by tackling the poor, instead of operating on the rich. You give tickets to the hungry! Think of it—to the hungry! Tickets! A green one means a bowl of pea soup; a pink one, a slice of ham; a brown one, a codfish ball. The polychromatics of systematized charity whereby you discourage the increase of a professional pauper class! Tickets! To the hungry! Ouch!"
The Bishop more than once had despaired of solving that very problem. He shook his head sadly rather than rebukingly and said, "I have no doubt that you are a very remarkable young man and very up to date and very hopeful, but in a huge city like New York how can any one solve the problem of helping everybody who really needs—"
"By using brains, Bishop Phillipson," cut in H. R., so sternly that the Bishop flushed. But before his anger could crystallize, H. R. continued, challengingly: "Who in New York are in need of charity? Five thousand empty bellies? No. Five million empty souls!"
It was a striking figure of speech. Before the Bishop could say anything H. R. went on, very politely:
"Will you oblige me by torturing the ears?"
"Torturing the ears?" echoed the Bishop in a daze.