"Secretaryship?" Mr. Spangler repeated, vaguely.
"You declined it? I know. But I don't believe Brown's got a man yet. I heard from him on another matter, yesterday, and he didn't say he had. Anyway, it's worth trying for. We can telegraph him to-morrow," said Dr. Lavendar, excitedly.
Mr. Spangler stared at him in bewilderment. "But," he said, breathlessly, "I—I don't think—I fear I am not fit." He felt as if caught in a sudden wind; his face grew red with agitation. "I declined it!" he ended, gasping.
"Fit?" said Dr. Lavendar. "My dear man, what fitness is needed? There's nothing to it, Spangler, I assure you." Dr. Lavendar was very much in earnest; he sat forward on the edge of his chair and gesticulated with his pipe. "Don't be too modest, my boy."
"Business entails such responsibilities," Mr. Spangler began, in a frightened voice.
"Oh, but this is mere routine," Dr. Lavendar interrupted; "they want a clergyman—somebody with tact. There's a good deal of church politics in it, I suppose, and they've got to have somebody who would never step on anybody's toes."
"I would never do that," said Mr. Spangler, earnestly, "but—"
"No," said Dr. Lavendar, abruptly, his voice changing—"no, Spangler, you never would." Then he was silent for a moment, pulling on his pipe, wondering perhaps, in spite of himself, at Ellen. "No, you never would. You see, you are just the man for the place. Brown said they wanted somebody who was presentable; he said they didn't need any particular abil—I mean any particular business ability."
"But," said Mr. Spangler, "to give up my sacred calling—"
"Spangler, come now! you don't 'call' very loudly, do you? There, my dear boy, let an old fellow have his joke. I merely mean you don't preach as often as if you had a regular parish. And you can supply, you know, there just as well as here."