“But, Doctor,” said Michael in dismay, striding along by his side down the street, “I really couldn’t do that. I’m not a public speaker, you know—I never addressed a big audience in my life! Isn’t there some one else I could get for you?” It was odd that while he was saying it the vision of the church filled with the fashionable world, waiting for a wedding which did not materialize, came to his thoughts. “Oh, that doesn’t make the slightest difference in the world!” said the worried man. “You know the subject from _a_ to _z_, and I don’t know another available soul tonight who does. Just tell them what you know, you needn’t talk long; it’ll be all right anyway. Just smile your smile and they’ll give all right. Good night, and thank you from my heart! I must take this cab,” and he hailed a passing cab and sprang inside, calling out above the city’s din, “Eight o’clock the meeting is. Don’t worry! You’ll come out all right. It’ll be good practice for your business.” Michael stood still in the middle of the crowded pavement and looked after the departing cab in dismay. If ever in all his life had he come to a spot where he felt so utterly inadequate to fill a situation. Frantically he tried as he started down the street again, to think of some one else to ask. There seemed to be no one at all who was used to speaking that knew the subject. The few who knew were either out of town or at a great distance. He did not know how to reach them in time. Besides, there was something about Michael that just would not let him shirk a situation no matter how trying it was to him. It was one of the first principles he had been taught with football, and before he reached his boarding place, his chin was up, and his lips firmly set. Anyone who knew him well would have felt sure Michael was going into a scrimmage and expected the fighting to be hard. It was Will French who dug it out of him after dinner, and laughed and slapped him gleefully on the shoulder. Will was engaged to Hester now and he was outrageously happy. “Good work, old fellow! You’ve got your chance, now give it to ’em! I don’t know anybody can do it better. I’d like to bring a millionaire or two to hear you. You’ve been there, now tell ’em! Don’t frown like that, old fellow, I tell you you’ve got the chance of your life. Why don’t you tell ’em about the tenement in the alley?” Michael’s face cleared. “I hadn’t thought of it, Will. Do you think I could? It isn’t exactly on the subject. I understood him I was to speak of the tenement in relation to the Playground.” “The very thing,” said Will. “Didn’t he tell you to say what you knew? Well, give it to ’em straight, and you’ll see those rich old fellows open their eyes. Some of ’em own some of those old rickety shacks, and probably don’t know what they own. Tell ’em. Perhaps the old man who owns our tenement will be there! Who knows?”