Meantime, as Dr. Everett and young Ried went homeward, they had a talk together.
“When I found out that those boys had gone to the theatre to-night I was completely discouraged,” declared Ried. “It seemed to me that our work was a failure; I could almost see Satan laughing over the success of his scheme. I never felt so about anything in my life. And now it seems to me that perhaps the Lord will let it result in being the best thing that ever happened to us.”
To all of which Dr. Everett made the apparently irrelevant answer:—
“Mr. Roberts and his wife are singularly well mated; how perfectly they fit into each other's thoughts. Ried, you and I have a great deal to learn from them.”
“I have,” said Ried, meekly.
Yet another bit of talk closed this evening:
“McCullum has given me an idea,” Mr. Roberts said to his wife as they sat together reviewing the day. “Not a bad one, I fancy. I wonder when we can act on it and watch results? There are tickets for other places besides theatres. Why couldn't we furnish them for some entertainment, lecture, or concert, or something of the sort, that would be really helpful? The only difficulty is that there are few helpful places as yet within reach of their capacities. It takes an exceptional genius to hold such listeners.”
But his wife, her face aglow, clasped her hands in an ecstasy of delight.
“What a beautiful thought!” she said; “and how nice that it should come to you just now, when there will be such a splendid opportunity to put it in practice. Why, don't you know? Gough, next week, fifty cent tickets; on temperance, too! how grand! And Evan, let us give them each two tickets. I want that Dirk Colson to take his sister; perhaps he will not, but then he may; one can never tell. Oh, Evan, won't it be nice?”
“Ah!” said Mr. Roberts, “as usual you are ahead of me. I had not thought of the two tickets apiece. That is a suggestion for their manliness. Flossy, we'll try it.”