Brad let him have it straight.
“Five hundred, Mr. Merrimac.”
“Five hundred!” The elderly man’s voice rose to an indignant screech. “What do they think I am? A wealthy man?”
“I believe you contributed that much last year to the Community Chest,” Brad said, consulting a memorandum on the back side of the pledge card. “The church really needs your help.”
“It certainly does,” added Dan. “The heating plant is shot and a good stiff wind might blow the building over!”
Mr. Merrimac permitted himself a tight, half-amused smile. “It’s hardly that bad, Dan,” he said. “I’ll admit though, that we need a new church. The cause is a worthy one.”
“Then how much may we put you down for?” Brad asked, taking out a fountain pen.
“I’m not prepared to make any pledge at this time.”
“But Mr. Merrimac, you’re our best prospect—”
“I hate to disappoint you, Brad,” Mr. Merrimac said soberly. “I honestly do. The truth is, I’ve had rather distressing business losses recently. I can’t afford to make a pledge at this time.”