"So I do," said the broker. "It costs very little, and it covers a good deal, and may come handy in case of trouble."
"That's exactly the argument in favor of your joining the church," said the president, "excepting that in the latter case a great deal more is promised and the cost is nothing at all."
"Excepting church dues," said the broker, with a quizzical smile.
"Well," said the president, "that's true, but what do they amount to in a question of risk?"
Broker Whilcher reflected profoundly for several moments, and at last said:
"Lottson, I'm inclined to do it; if any one had ever talked solid sense to me about religion I should have been in the Church before. Still, how am I going to solemnly declare before a body of people that I believe things which I really don't believe at all?"
"You must believe them before you declare any belief, and believe them for the reason that you believe thousands of other things—because you are told that they are true. You believe many a thing on the word of worse men than those who wrote the Gospels and Epistles, for these men showed no sign of being on the make, while your business informants do. You are to believe them for lack of any definite information to the contrary, and because there was no selfish object in the eye of any man who gave the words upon which these beliefs are founded."
"I declare, I'll do it!" exclaimed the broker; "but say, Lottson, do you get a commission on church members as you do on insurance risks? Because if you do—halves!"
"Nonsense!" laughed the president. "You'll have to go before the examining committee this week, for next Sunday is the first of the month, and the regular day for the reception of new members."
"Examining committee!" exclaimed the broker. "Whew! I guess I'll change my mind."