“We’ve taken the liberty of calling, in the name of the church, to congratulate you, Mr. Drake,” said their leader, rising with the rest as the minister entered the dining-room.

“Thank you,” returned the minister quietly.

“I fancy,” said the other, who was Barwood himself, with a smile such as heralds the facetious, “you will hardly condescend to receive our little gratuity now?”

“I shall not require it, gentlemen.”

“Of course we should never have offered you such a small sum, if we hadn’t known you were independent of us.”

“Why then did you offer it at all?” asked the minister.

“As a token of our regard.”

“The regard could not be very lively that made no inquiry as to our circumstances.  My daughter had twenty pounds a year; I had nothing.  We were in no small peril of simple starvation.”

“Bless my soul! we hadn’t an idea of such a thing, sir!  Why didn’t you tell us?”

Mr. Drake smiled, and made no other reply.

“Well, sir,” resumed Barwood, after a very brief pause, for he was a man of magnificent assurance, “as it’s all turned out so well, you’ll let bygones be bygones, and give us a hand?”

“I am obliged to you for calling,” said Mr. Drake, “—­especially to you, Mr. Barwood, because it gives me an opportunity of confessing a fault of omission on my part toward you.”

Here the pastor was wrong.  Not having done his duty when he ought, he should have said nothing now it was needless for the wronged, and likely only to irritate the wrong-doer.

“Don’t mention it, pray,” said Mr. Barwood.  “This is a time to forget every thing.”

“I ought to have pointed out to you, Mr. Barwood,” pursued the minister, “both for your own sake and that of those poor families, your tenants, that your property in this lower part of the town was quite unfit for the habitation of human beings.”

“Don’t let your conscience trouble you on the score of that neglect,” answered the deacon, his face flushing with anger, while he tried to force a smile:  “I shouldn’t have paid the least attention to it if you had.  My firm opinion has always been that a minister’s duty is to preach the gospel, not meddle in the private affairs of the members of his church; and if you knew all, Mr. Drake, you would not have gone out of your way to make the remark.  But that’s neither here nor there, for it’s not the business as we’ve come upon.—­Mr. Drake, it’s a clear thing to every one as looks into it, that the cause will never prosper so long as that’s the chapel we’ve got.  We did think as perhaps a younger man might do something to counteract church-influences; but there don’t seem any sign of betterment yet.  In fact, thinks looks worse.  No, sir! it’s the chapel as is the stumbling-block.  What has religion got to do with what’s ugly and dirty!  A place that any lady or gentleman, let he or she be so much of a Christian, might turn up the nose and refrain the foot from!  No!  I say; what we want is a new place of worship.  Cow-lane is behind the age—­and that musty! uw!”