“Well, I cannot say that I remember an instance; only I'm sure that he has his own way of doing good. Every one has, unless he be utterly bad; and I'm seventy years old, gentle-men, and I never met that kind yet.” “Greatheart is the only man in Liverpool who would say a word for Dodson,” said Lard a minute later, “and in this case his charity has rather overshot the mark; but it does one good to hear the old man. He is a walking Sermon on the Mount, and the best thing about him is that he believes in everybody; the very sight of his white hair makes me a better man.” II “How tired you must be, Fred, after four hours' begging in offices! I'll bring you a cup of tea in the study at once, and then you are to have a nice little dinner all to yourself. “Oh, no, I've not been extravagant at all, and I've not taken any money out of our alms-box, and I'm not a wicked parson's wife who gets into debt; but a hamper came from the country, with lots of good things in it, and you will have the chicken; the children and I simply rioted in plenty to-day. Now, I'll not hear a word about your expedition until you have had some food.” “There, I feel a perfect glutton, Ethel. I hope you have sent some of the h-hamper to the sick.” “I've done nothing of the kind; every single bit is to be eaten in this Vicarage of St Ambrose; you would starve yourself and your family for the parish, and I am sure you are the hardest working man in it. Well, have you got the money to furnish the playground of St Ambrose's?” “Do you mean have I come home with £54 in my pocket as the result of one r-raid by a poor, dull, s-stammering parson, who couldn't make an eloquent appeal to save his life?” “You don't stammer, Fred, and I wish you wouldn't say such things; you may... hesitate at a time, and I am sure any one would give you money for a good cause, because you are... so sincere and...” “That will do, Ethel; it's a great h-help to an obscure parson in the poorest of parishes to have a wife who believes in him, and makes four hundred pounds out of two.” “And now about the money. Was the asking hard?” “It might have been, but every one was so j-jolly. The first man I went to was Mr. Welsby, and as soon as I came into his room he cried out, 'Was just thinking of you: I hope you're on the w-warpath for that playground, for I've a five-pound note ready for you.' “He sent me on to a cotton b-broker, and he thanked me several times for coming on such a good errand, and backed up Welsby with five pounds. Every person had a kind word, and by five o'clock I had... “The whole sum?” “With six p-pounds over, which will get a little sheltered seat for old people. How good those city fellows are when they fancy a cause.” “And when they fancy the man who pleads it, Fred. Did you not get one refusal?”