He and Brad stood around a few minutes watching Midge stack wood. Then, aware that it was getting on toward noon, they decided to make a call or two on church building fund prospects.
“Where do we go first?” Dan asked, consulting a list of names Mr. Hatfield had given him.
Brad studied the prospects. “How about hitting Atwood Merrimac?” he proposed.
“Who’s he, Brad?”
“President of the Merrimac Bakery and one of the richest members of our church. He usually makes fairly large donations, but has the reputation of being a little close.”
“We’ll go to work on him. What’s he down on the list for, Brad?”
“Five hundred dollars. We’ll be lucky if we get that much. But he should come across with two or three hundred if we put up a good argument.”
“That old wreck of a heating plant ought to be argument enough,” Dan returned, pocketing the list. “Well, let’s get moving. We ought to make at least one call before lunch time.”
The Merrimac residence was six blocks farther on, overlooking a ravine. Massively built of stone and brick, the dwelling was impressive both in structure and size.
Brad and Dan carefully wiped mud from their shoes before ringing the doorbell.