A little withered old woman laboriously struggled to her feet, and in a high-pitched, quavering voice began: "I'd like to give suthin' towards the end in view. Our rector were powerful good to my Thomas when he had the brown kitties in his throat. He came to see him mos' every day and read to him, and said prayers with him, and brought him papers and jelly. He certainly were powerful good to my Thomas; and once when Thomas had a fever our rector said that he thought that a bath would do my Thomas a heap of good, and he guessed he'd give him one. So I got some water in a bowl and some soap, and our rector he just took off his coat, and his vest, and his collar, and his cuffs, and our rector he washed Thomas, and he washed him, and he wa----" "Well," Hepsey interrupted, to stay the flow of eloquence, "so you'd like to pay for his laundry now, would you Mrs. Sumner? Shall I put you down for two dollars? Good! Mrs. Sumner sets the ball rollin' with two dollars. Who'll be the next?" As there was no response, Mrs. Burke glanced critically over the assembly until she had picked her man, and then announced: "Hiram Mason, I'm sure you must be on the anxious bench?" Hiram colored painfully as he replied: "I don't know as I am prepared to say what I can give, just at present, Mrs. Burke." "Well now let's think about it a little. Last night's _Daily Bugle_ had your name in a list of those that gave ten dollars apiece at St. Bridget's fair. I suppose the Irish trade's valuable to a grocer like yourself; but you surely can't do less for your own church? I'll put you down for ten, though of course you can double it if you like." "No," said Hiram, meditatively; "I guess ten'll do." "Hiram Mason gives ten dollars. The Lord loveth a cheerful giver. Thanks, Hiram." Again there was a pause; and as no one volunteered, Hepsey continued: "Sylvester Perkins, how much will you give?" "I suppose I'll give five dollars," Sylvester responded, before Mrs. Burke could have a chance to put him down for a larger sum. "But I don't like this way of doin' things a little bit. It's not a woman's place to hold up a man and rob him in public meetin'." "No, a woman usually goes through her husband's pockets when he's asleep, I suppose. But you see I'm not your wife. Thanks, Mr. Perkins: Mr. Perkins, _five_ dollars," she repeated as she entered his subscription in the book. "Next?" she called briskly. "Mrs. Burke, I'll give twenty dollars, if you think that's enough," called a voice from the back timidly. Everyone turned to the speaker in some surprise. He was a delicate, slender fellow, evidently in bad health. He trembled nervously, and Mrs. Burke hesitated for an instant, between fear of hurting his feelings and letting him give more than she knew he could possibly afford. "I am afraid you ought not to give so much, Amos. Let me put you down for five," she said kindly. "We mustn't rob Peter to pay Paul."