“Oh, no!” exclaimed the boy. “Not a word?” “Have you forgotten that I promised you?” “That's all right,” said Charlie, “only I just wanted to warn you. You can tie up with the church guys if you feel like it--only don't mention your lost brothers down in the pit. Just you remember that I got some of the doctor's silver.” The boy gave a start. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “Didn't you know that?” laughed the other. “No, I didn't know it.” “What did you suppose I was doing all that time while you were watching?” Samuel said nothing for a minute. “Why did you pick out Dr. Vince?” he asked suddenly. “Him? Why not? I knew his house.” “But a clergyman! Does it seem quite fair?” “Oh, that's all right,” laughed the other. “He's got a-plenty. It don't have to come out of his salary, you know.” “Why not?” “Because, he's got a rich wife. You didn't suppose he lived in that palace of a house on his own salary, did you?” “I hadn't thought anything about it.” “Well, he's all right--he married one of the richest girls in town. And she'll keep his nest feathered.” There was a pause. “Don't you think that Dr. Vince is a good man?” asked Samuel. “I don't know,” said the other. “I've got no quarrel with him. But I don't like his trade.” “Doesn't he do a great deal of good to people?” “Maybe,” said the other, shrugging his shoulders. “To poor people?” persisted Samuel. “I dare say,” admitted Charlie. “But you'll notice it takes all the sand out of them--makes them into beggars. And I ain't that sort.” “Why do you think he tries to help them?” “Well, he gets paid for it, don't he?” “But the other people in the church--the ones who pay the money. Why do you think they do it?” The burglar thought for a moment. “I reckon they do it to make themselves feel good,” he said. “To make themselves feel good,” repeated the other perplexed. “Sure!” said the man. “You take one of those rich women--she's got a lot of money that she never earned, and she spends all her life amusing herself and ordering servants about. And all the time she knows that most of the people--the people that do the work--are suffering and dying. And she don't want to let that make her feel bad, so she hires some fellow like your friend, the doctor, to preach to 'em--and maybe give 'em a turkey at Christmas. And that takes the trouble off her mind. Don't you see?” “Yes,” said the other weakly. “I see.” “Or else,” added Charlie, “take some of those smooth grafters they've got up there--the men, I mean. They spend six days in the week cutting other people's throats, and robbing the public. Don't you think it's handy for them to know they can come on Sunday and drop a five-dollar-bill in the plate, and square the whole account?” Samuel sought for a reply to these cruel taunts. “I don't think you put it quite fairly,” he protested. “Why not?” demanded the other. “In the first place, men like that wouldn't go to church--” Charlie stared at him. “What!” he exclaimed.