So, saved from humiliation by his sense of humor, he looked about him with interest. When the procession of choir boys came up the aisle, and Mrs. Dunn explained in a condescending whisper what they were, his answer surprised her a trifle. “Yes,” whispered the captain in reply, “I know. I’ve seen the choir in Saint Peter’s at Rome.”
Only once did he appear greatly astonished. That was when the offering was taken and a certain dignified magnate, whose fame as a king of finance is world-wide, officiated as one of the collectors.
“Heavens and earth!” murmured Captain Elisha, staring wide-eyed at the unmistakable features so often pictured and cartooned in the daily papers; “Caroline—Caroline, am I seein’ things or is that—is that—”
“That is Mr. ——,” whispered his niece. “He is one of the vestrymen here.”
“My soul!” still gazing after the Emperor of Wall Street; “him passin’ the plate! Well,” with a grim smile, “whoever picked him out for the job has got judgment. If he can’t make a body shell out, nobody can.”
He listened to the sermon, the text of which was from the Beatitudes, with outward solemnity, but with a twinkle in his eye. After the benediction, when Caroline asked how he enjoyed it, the cause of the twinkle became apparent.
“Fine!” he declared, with enthusiasm. “He’s a smart preacher, ain’t he! And he knew his congregation. You might not guess they was meek perhaps, but they certainly did look as if they’d inherited the earth.”
He drew a breath of relief as the trio emerged into the open air. He had enjoyed the novel experience, in a way, but now he felt rather like one let out of jail. The quiet luncheon at home with Caroline was a pleasant anticipation.
But Mrs. Corcoran Dunn smashed his anticipation at a blow. She insisted that he and his niece lunch with her.
“You really must, you know,” she declared. “It will be delightful. Just a little family party.”