"Free-will offerings, Sister Barber," spoke up Brother Hoarding, in a good, strong voice; "freewill offerings. That is what the church should have."
"Well, I don't know. Why in the singin' any more than in kerosene and wood and sich things?"
Auntie Barber couldn't sing; I will insist that she couldn't; but she could reason, bless her! And her keen, clear eyes saw through the films of selfishness and penuriousness wherever found. The committee of young people looked over at her and smiled and nodded approvingly. They had found an unexpected ally.
Here Deacon Turner put in a demur. He had no objection to a church spending money for music, provided they had it to spend; but did the brethren think that in their condition, with a larger salary to raise, and the home mission collection not yet taken, and new books to pay for, they ought to put in an extra bill for music?
Now, this argument might have had more weight, but for the fact that Deacon Turner was in the mood to want all the money given to foreign missions when the subject of home missions was broached, and he wanted it given to the library, or the salary, or some other needy cause, when the question of foreign missions was before them. Anything but the matter in hand, was Deacon Turner's motto.
I have not time to give you all the pros and cons of that discussion; but the result was a partial vote to invite Theodore Pemberton to take charge of their music.
Great was the joy of the young people. So pleased were they with Auntie Barber that they gave kindly answer to her somewhat timidly put question:
"I suppose he is a good young man?"
"Oh, dear, yes! Judge Bourne said his habits were very correct, indeed; noticeably so for a young man in his position. Those were Judge Bourne's very words."
"Yes—but I meant—you know—I hope he is a Christian?"