"Make not my Father's house an house of merchandise," said Cameron, but faintly concealing his disgust. "I tell you, Brethren, this thing must be free. I am sure that is the plan of the young folks. The Young People's Society is not in the business to make money. Am I right, Charlie?" "Yes, sir," answered the young Christian eagerly. "We wanted to fix some place where the young men of the town could spend their evenings, without going to the bad. There are lots of them who don't have homes, but live in boarding houses and have no place to go." "And a pretty crowd you'll have too," said Wickham. "Yes, and if you had to pay the preacher you'd want to rent the room," said Sharpe. Cameron's face flushed at the hard words. "Come, come, Brethren, what shall we do about this?" said the Chairman. "I move," said Elder Wicks, "that we ask the Young People's Society to assist us in building the addition to the church, and that we give them one of the rooms." "I second the motion," said Cameron; and it was carried. Then the meeting adjourned with the usual prayer. "Well," said Wickham, "I wash my hands of the whole matter." Uncle Bobbie nudged Charlie in the side as he started for his hat; and later, as he walked down the street, arm in arm with his pastor and his bookkeeper, he said: "Poor old Wickham; his heart's all right, but he's got so much Scripture in his head that his think machine won't work." "Friends," said Cameron, as they paused in front of the parsonage; "this is the day I have looked forward to for a long time. This step will revolutionize our methods. It's hard to get out of old ruts, but the world needs applied Christianity. Thank God for the young people." And Uncle Bobbie said, "Amen." CHAPTER VIII Charlie Bowen ran into the printing office one day on his way home to dinner. "Dick," he said, "it's time you got out of this. I want you to put on your best bib and tucker to-night and go with me to meet some young people." Dick carefully spread a pile of letterheads on the drying rack; then shutting off the power, stood watching the machine as its movements grew slower and slower. "Young people," he thought; "the Young People's Society of the Jerusalem Church. I saw the announcement in to-day's Independent. Church members--_she'll_ be there, and I'll have the joy of seeing how near I can come to the candle without getting my wings singed. Well, I suppose a fellow can't stay in the dark all the time," he said aloud, as he turned from the now motionless press. "Of course not," cried Charlie. "You've hidden yourself long enough. It will do you a world of good to get out; and, beside, I always do feel like a sneak when I'm having a good time and you're moping up here in this dirty old place."