“Well,” said Sam, “that’s how I feel, but in a sense I’m landed with the thing and I propose to go on with it. As I see it—and I know there’s a certain amount of inappropriateness in thinking at all of these practical affairs with my benefactor so recently dead, but I must, I must——” he looked at Ada and it was understood that his thought for her excused all—“As I see it, it’s a case for going on and trying to pull the chestnuts out of the fire, so to speak. I shall print that paper, and the good that I hoped to do will not be lost because my circumstances have altered, but I shall make a small charge for it to cover expenses as far as possible. And as I naturally want it to sell well, I had the idea of stating on the cover that it was first read at the Concentrics under your chairmanship. The point of that is that all the members were not there last night; it will call their attention to it; and they will, I hope, buy. It makes certain of a few reliable purchasers.”
“Quite, quite,” said Peter. “It’s an excellent idea. Though I can hardly suppose that mention of my name has any value, the name of the society should certainly help.”
His modesty was quite incurable. He had not the faintest notion of the wide-spread influence of Peter Struggles. “I have thought of little else all day but Mr. Adams’ paper. I wondered if it was my duty to speak of this terrible subject from the pulpit. The Church ought not to be silent or it may be thought to acquiesce.”
Sam felt his heart leap within him. “Adams thought frankness best,” he said.
“Yes, yes, at the Concentrics. But there are difficulties for me, and perhaps I shall speak only to the Young Men’s Class at the-Sunday School. Though that,” he reflected, “is perilously near to compromise.”
“But what is it?” asked Ada. “What are you talking about?”
Sam was silent. So was Peter, and the silence grew till he felt it a reproach. He looked at Sam. “You see?” he said. “That is the dilemma of the Church. I shall speak to the young men, and, after that perhaps, perhaps——” He glanced at Ada.
“No,” he finished decidedly, “I must leave it at that.” He was fifty-six, and most of his life had been lived under Victoria the Good.