"It's a horrid thing to confess, but do you know, George, I've felt myself getting meaner and meaner, and stingier and stingier ever since you brought the good news."
George tried to smile, but the effort was unsuccessful; he looked half-vexed and half-ashamed.
"Oh, I wouldn't put it just that way," he said. "The news is so exciting that we hardly know at once how to adjust ourselves to it. We are simply prudent. It would be folly to plunge ahead without any caution at all. How much did you say the debt of the Presbyterian Church is?"
"Six thousand, I think."
"A good deal for a little church like that to owe."
"Yes, but—"
"You didn't promise anything, Mary Jane, did you, to Mrs. Borrow?"
"No, for I had nothing to promise, but I did tell her on Sunday that I would help them liberally if I could."
"They will base large expectations on that, sure. I wish you hadn't said it just that way. Of course, we are bound to help them, but I should like to have a perfectly free hand in doing it."
There was silence for a moment, while both looked through the window at the General's place over the way.