Every Sunday morning Mr. Samuel Wright and Mr. Thomas Dilworth--the one pale and pompous, the other rosy and smiling--took up the collection in St. Michael's. A mahogany pole with a black velvet pouch on one end, was thrust solemnly into each pew, then drawn back with very personal pauses--which were embarrassing if you had forgotten to put some change into your glove before starting for church. When these poles had raked every pew, they were carried up the aisle to Dr. Lavendar, who, taking hold of the purple tassel on the bottom of each bag, turned the contents into a silver plate. The change came out with a fine clatter; we children used to keep awake on purpose to hear it. Once in a while a bill would rustle out with the silver and balance on the top of the little heap in such an exciting way that Dr. Lavendar had to put his hand over it to keep it from blowing off as he carried the plate to the communion-table--we did not say "altar" in Old Chester. This done, Mr. Wright and Mr. Dilworth would tiptoe solemnly back to their respective pews. When the service was over the senior warden always counted the money. On this summer Sunday morning, when he went into the vestry for that purpose, he found Dr. Lavendar just hanging up his black gown behind the door. "Dr. Lavendar," said the senior warden, "you will, I am sure, be pleased when I inform you that there is a good collection. Mrs. Richie put in a five-dollar bill." "Well," said Dr. Lavendar, "we need it. Your father sent me a check the other day; but we need some more." Mr. Wright did not comment upon his father's generosity; instead, he slid the money from the silver plate on to the table and began to count it. Dr. Lavendar looked at him over his spectacles; when only half a dozen coppers were left, he said suddenly: "Samuel!" The senior warden looked up; "Yes, sir?" "Samuel, your father has spoken to me of you." Mr. Wright looked down; then he slowly picked up the last penny. "Yes; he spoke of you. Samuel, I have something to say to you of a very serious nature." "We have nine dollars and seventy-seven cents," said the senior warden. "Your father," said Dr. Lavendar, "has expressed a willingness to see you." Mr. Wright put the money into a small canvas bag, and pulling the drawing-string up, wound it round and round the top; his hands trembled. "He has some concern about your Sam--as you have yourself. He is disturbed because the boy has lost his heart to your tenant, Mrs. Richie." "Call it twelve dollars," Samuel said, embarrassed to the point of munificence. He put the canvas bag in his pocket, and rose. "I'll deposit this to-morrow, sir," he added, as he had added every Sunday morning for the last twenty years. "Samuel," said Dr. Lavendar, sternly, "sit down!" With involuntary haste the senior warden sat down, but he would not look at Dr. Lavendar. "It is not my purpose or desire," he said, "to be disrespectful, but I must request you, sir--"