“Why--that's the reason that so many others have nothing! Only realize it--right at this very moment there are people starving to death--and here in Lockmanville! They want to work, and there is no work for them! I could take you to see them, sir--girls who want a job in Mr. Wygant's cotton mill, and he won't give it to them!” “But, my boy--that isn't Mr. Wygant's fault! It's because there is too much cloth already.” “I've been thinking about that,” said Samuel earnestly. “And it doesn't sound right to me. There are too many people who need good clothes. Look at poor Sophie, for instance!” “Yes,” said the other, “of course. But they haven't money to buy the cloth---” And Samuel sat forward in his excitement. “Yes, yes!” he cried. “And isn't that just what I said before? They have no money, because the rich people have it all!” There was no reply; and after a moment Samuel rushed on: “Surely it is selfish of Mr. Wygant to shut poor people out of his mill, just because they have no money. Why couldn't he let them make cloth for themselves?” “Samuel!” protested the other. “That is absurd!” “But why, sir?” “Because, my boy--in a day they could make more than they could wear in a year.” “So much the better, doctor! Then they could give the balance to other people who needed it--and the other people could make things for them. Take Sophie. She not only needs clothing, she needs shoes, and above all, she needs enough to eat. And if it's a question of there not being enough food, look at what's wasted in a place like Master Albert's! And there's land enough at 'Fairview' to raise food for the whole town--I know what I'm talking about there, because I'm a farmer. And it's used to keep a lot of race horses that nobody ever rides.” “Samuel,” said the clergyman gravely, “that is true--and that is very wrong. But what can _I_ do?” And Samuel stared at him. “Doctor!” he exclaimed. “I can't tell you how it hurts me to have you talk to me like that!” “How do you mean, Samuel?” asked the other in bewilderment. And the boy clasped his hands together in his agitation. “You told me that we must sacrifice ourselves, and help others! You said that was our sole duty! And I believed you--I was ready to go with you. And here I am--I want to follow you, and you won't lead!” Those words were like a stab. The doctor winced visibly. And Samuel winced also--his heart was wrung. “It hurts me more than I can tell you!” he cried. “But think of the people who are suffering--nobody spares them! And how can you be silent, doctor--how can the shepherd of Christ be silent while some of his flock are living in luxury and others are starving to death?” There was a long pause. Dr. Vince sat rigid, clutching the arms of his chair. “Samuel,” he said, “you are right. I will preach on this unemployed question next Sunday.” “Ah, thank you, sir--thank you!” exclaimed Samuel, with tears of gratitude in his eyes. And he took his friend's hand and wrung it.