"We now hear from Tempest," smiled the druggist. He had not been able, as yet, to reconcile himself to the bet he lost some months before, and had since a grudge against Wyeth.
"I see by today's paper, that Wilson Jacobs will address the people of the city in regard to the Christian forward movement, and will be assisted by several white men of high standing in the city."
"Well, speeches will be all right; but I'd bet a dollar to a dime that they will never secure a Y.M.C.A. in the town he represents. As for Effingham, no chance."
"You seem to be successful in getting the biggest kind of churches here," said Wyeth.
"Yes," returned the druggist, "and they will be paying for them, as they have been for the last—since I ever knew anything."
"But they have the churches, nevertheless."
"Oh, so far as that goes, yes."
"They must have had to pay as much as forty per cent of the cost, to secure a loan for the remainder?"
"Yes, Tempest; but what has that to do with it?"
"Well, if the big church on the corner up the street could be secured at a cost of seventy-five thousand dollars, half or more of which I understand has been paid, then, a like amount should be available in a town of this size, and which has an equal number of colored people, shouldn't it?"