Those words were like a stab. The doctor winced visibly.
And Samuel winced also—his heart was wrung. “It hurts me more than I can tell you!” he cried. “But think of the people who are suffering—nobody spares them! And how can you be silent, doctor—how can the shepherd of Christ be silent while some of his flock are living in luxury and others are starving to death?”
There was a long pause. Dr. Vince sat rigid, clutching the arms of his chair.
“Samuel,” he said, “you are right. I will preach on this unemployed question next Sunday.”
“Ah, thank you, sir—thank you!” exclaimed Samuel, with tears of gratitude in his eyes. And he took his friend's hand and wrung it.
Then, suddenly, a new thought came to him. “And meantime, doctor,” said he, “what am I to tell Finnegan?”
CHAPTER XIX
One who has all the cares of humanity upon his shoulders, as Samuel had, is apt to find that it claims a good deal of time. Samuel did his best to keep his mind upon the weighty problems which he had to solve; but he found that he was continually distracted by the thought of Miss Gladys. Again and again her image would sweep over him, driving everything else from his mind. The vision of her beauty haunted him, sending his imagination upon all sorts of strange excursions and adventures.