“No,” said the boy. “Why not?” “Well, why should they care to go? And they wouldn't be welcome--” Charlie burst into laughter. “You poor kid!” he exclaimed. “What have you been doing up there at St. Matthew's, anyhow?” “I'm the sexton's assistant,” said Samuel gravely. “Yes,” said the other. “Evidently a sexton's assistant doesn't see much of the congregation.” “I wish you'd explain,” remarked the boy after a pause. “I hardly know where to begin,” replied the other. “They've such a choice collection of crooks up there. Did you ever notice a little pot-bellied fellow with mutton-chop whiskers--looks as if he was eating persimmons all the time?” “You mean Mr. Hickman?” “Yes, that's the chap. He's one of the pillars of the church, isn't he?” “I suppose so,” said Samuel. “He's one of the vestrymen.” “And did you ever hear of Henry Hickman before?” “I know he's a famous lawyer; and I was told that he managed the Lockman estate.” “Yes,” said Charlie, “and I suppose you don't know what that means!” “No,” admitted Samuel, “I don't.” “It means,” went on the other, “that he was old Lockman's right-hand man, and had his finger in every dirty job that the old fellow ever did for thirty years. And it means that he runs the business now, and does all the crooked work that has to be done for it.” There was a pause. “For instance, what?” asked Samuel in a low voice. “For instance, politics,” said the other. “Steering the grafters off the Lockman preserve. Getting the right men named by the machine, and putting up the dough to elect them. Last year the Democrats got in, in spite of all he could do; and he had to buy the city council outright.” “What!” gasped the boy in horror. “Sure thing,” laughed Charlie--“there was an independent water company trying to break in, and the Democrats were pledged to them. They say it cost Hickman forty-five thousand dollars.” “But do you KNOW that?” cried the other. “Know it, Sammy? Why everybody in town knows it. It was a rotten steal, on the face of it.” Samuel was staring at him. “I can't believe it!” he exclaimed. “Nonsense!” laughed the other. “Ask round a bit!” And then he added quickly, “Why, see here--didn't you tell me you knew Billy Finnegan--the barkeeper?” “Yes, I know him.” “Well, then, you can go right to headquarters and find out. His boss, John Callahan, was one of the supervisors--he got the dough. Go and ask Finnegan.” “But will he tell?” exclaimed Samuel. “I guess he'll tell,” said Charlie, “if you go at him right. It's no great secret--the whole town's been laughing about it.” Samuel was almost too shocked for words. “Do you suppose Dr. Vince knows it?” he cried. “He don't know much if he doesn't,” was the other's reply. “A member of his church!” gasped the boy. “Oh, pshaw!” laughed the other. “You're too green, Sammy! What's the church got to do with business? Why, look--there's old Wygant--another of the vestrymen!” “Miss Gladys' father, you mean?”