“Um—no,” said Professor Stewart; and he gazed at Samuel with knitted brows—unable, for the life of him, to feel certain whether he ought to feel amused, or to feel touched, or to feel outraged.
As for Samuel, he realized that he was through with the professor. The professor had taught him all that he had to teach. He did not really understand this matter at all—that was because he belonged to the other world, the world of successful and fit people. They had their own problems to solve, no doubt!
This non-comprehension was made quite clear by the professor's next remark. “I'm sorry to have disappointed you,” he said. “If a little money will help you—”
“No,” said the other quickly. “You mustn't offer me money. How can that be right? That would be charity.”
“Ahem!” said the professor. “Yes. But then—you mentioned that you hadn't had any breakfast. Hadn't you better go into the kitchen and let them give you something?”
“But what is the use of putting things off?” cried Samuel wildly. “If I'm going to preach this new idea, I've got to begin.”
“But you can't preach very long on an empty stomach,” objected the other.
To which Samuel answered, “The preaching has to be by deeds.”
And so he took his departure; and Professor Stewart turned back to his work-table, upon which lay the bulky manuscript of his monumental work, which was entitled: “Methods of Relief; A Theory and a Programme.” Some pages lay before him; the top one was headed: “Chapter LXIII—Unemployment and Social Responsibility.” And Professor Stewart sat before this title, and stared, and stared.