He arose in his place, moved out into the aisle, advanced toward the platform, and with arm outstretched, exclaimed in wrathful tones:
“Mon, did ye no hear me tellin' ye? I want nae mon to mak' me a le-ear.”
At this point Mr. Stewart Duff, who had come to convey his wife home, and had got tired waiting for her outside, entered the church.
“Oh, get on with the business,” said Neil Fraser, who, although enjoying the scene, was becoming anxious for his dinner. “The question what's to be done with the five hundred dollars' arrears. I say, let's make it up right here. I am willing to give—”
“No, Mr. Chairman,” shouted Mr. Hayes, who was notoriously averse to parting with his money, and was especially fearful of a public subscription.
“There is something more than mere arrears—much more—”
“Ay, there is,” emphatically declared Mr. McFettridge, rising straight and stiff. “I'm for plain speakin'. The finances is not the worst about this congregation. The congregation has fallen off. Other churches in this village has good congregations. Why shouldn't we? The truth is, Mr. Chairman,”—Mr. McFettridge's voice rolled deep and sonorous over the audience—“we want a popular preacher—a preacher that draws—a preacher with some pep.”
“Hear! hear!” cried Mr. Boggs. “Pep's what we want. That's it—pep.”
“Pep,” echoed the chairman. “Exactly so, pep.”
“More than that,” continued Mr. McFettridge, “we want a minister that's a good mixer—one that stands in with the boys.”