STRAWMAN [with an unctuous smile].
Pay is the first condition of a priest
In Asia, Africa, America,
Or where you will. Ah yes, if he were free,
My dear young friend, I willingly agree,
The thing might pass; but, being pledged and bound,
He'll scarcely find the venture very sound.
Reflect, he's young and vigorous, sure to found
A little family in time; assume his will
To be the very best on earth—but still
The means, my friend—? 'Build not upon the sand,'
Says Scripture. If, upon the other hand,
The Offering—
FALK.
That's no trifle, I'm aware.
STRAWMAN.
Ah, come—that wholly alters the affair.
When men are zealous in their Offering,
And liberal—
FALK.
There he far surpasses most.
STRAWMAN.
"He" say you? How? In virtue of his post
The Offering is not what he has to bring
But what he has to get.
MRS. STRAWMAN [looking towards the background].
They're sitting there.
FALK [after staring a moment in amazement suddenly
understands and bursts out laughing.].
Hurrah for Offerings—the ones that caper
And strut—on Holy-days—in bulging paper!
STRAWMAN.
All the year round the curb and bit we bear,
But Whitsuntide and Christmas make things square.
FALK [gaily].
Why then, provided only there's enough of it,
Even family-founders will obey their Calls.
STRAWMAN.
Of course; a man assured the quantum suff of it
Will preach the Gospel to the cannibals.
[Sotto voce.
Now I must see if she cannot be led,
[To one of the little girls.
My little Mattie, fetch me out my head—
My pipe-head I should say, my little dear—
[Feels in his coat-tail pocket.
Nay, wait a moment tho': I have it here.