“Because if he isn't, we ought to, Dr. Vince! Something must be done.”
“My boy,” said the doctor, “perhaps it wouldn't be easy for you to understand it. But there is a feeling—would it be quite good taste for me to try to take away a very rich parishioner from another church?”
“But what have his riches to do with it?” asked the boy.
“Unfortunately, Samuel, it costs money to build churches; and most clergymen are dependent upon their salaries, you know.”
The good doctor was trying to make a jest of it; but Samuel was in deadly earnest. “I hope,” he said, “that you are not dependent upon the money of anyone like Master Albert.”
“Um—no,” said the doctor quickly.
“Understand me, please,” went on the other. “It's not simply that Master Albert is wrecking his own life. I suppose that's his right, if he wants to. But it's what he can do to other people! It's his money, Dr. Vince! Just think of it, he has seven hundred thousand dollars a year! And he never earned a cent of it; and he doesn't know what to do with it! Doctor, you KNOW that isn't right!”
“No,” said the clergyman, “it's very wrong indeed. But what can you do about it?”
“I don't know, doctor. I haven't had time to think about it—I've only just begun to realize it. But I thought if somebody like yourself—some one he respects—could point it out to him, he might use his money to some good purpose. If he won't, why then he ought to give it up.”
The other smiled. “I'm afraid, Samuel, he'd hardly do that!”