“But no,” said Merriwether, who had instinctively eliminated charitable organizations, free lunches and police stations from the terms of his wager, “I thought----” “My, my, my,” hummed the reverend gentleman, interrupting him. He produced his card case and took a card therefrom. “I am going,” he said, writing on the card with a pencil, “to give you my card to the secretary of the Combined Charities. Excellent system they have there. You'll be investigated, you know,” he said brightly, as if that were an especial boon he was conferring, “your record looked into--character and antecedents and all that sort of thing!” “And fed?” asked Merriwether. “Oh, indeed!” And he handed over the card as if he were giving Merriwether the keys to the city--but not too gross and material a city either; Merriwether felt almost as if he were being baptized. “But,” said Merriwether Buck, “I wanted _you_ to feed me!” “Oh, my dear man!” smiled the minister, “I _am_ doing it, you know. I'm a subscriber--do _all_ my charitable work this way. Saves time. Well, good-by.” And he nodded cheerily. “But,” said Merriwether Buck, “aren't you interested in me personally? Don't you want to hear my story?” “Story? Story?” hummed the other. “Indeed, but they'll learn your story there! They have the most excellent system there; card system; cases and case numbers, you know--Stories, bless you! Hundreds and hundreds of stories! Big file cases! You'll be number so-and-so. Really,” he said, with a beaming enthusiasm, “they have a _wonderful_ system. Well, good-by!” There was a touch of finality in his pleasant tone, but Merriwether caught him by the sleeve. “See here,” he said, “haven't you even got any _curiosity_ about me? Don't you even want to know why I'm hungry? Can't you find time _yourself_ to listen to the tale?” “Time,” said the reverend gentleman, “_time_ is just what I feel the lack of--feel it sadly, at moments like these, sadly.” He sighed, but it was an optimistic, good-humored sort of sigh. “But I tell you what you do.” He drew forth another card and scribbled on it. “If you want to tell me your story so very badly--(dear me, what remarkable situations the clerical life lets one in for!)--so _very_ badly, take this card to my study about 3.30. You'll find my stenographer there and you can dictate it to her; she'll type it out. Yes, indeed, she'll type it out! Well, _good_-by!” And with a bright backward nod he was off.