“You are absolutely right, Mills!” declared the minister magnanimously. “But as a practical man you realize that there _are_ embarrassments in the way of doing our full duty.” “No; truly, I don’t!” Mills retorted. “We either do it or we don’t. But please don’t think I meant to quiz you or be annoying. I wouldn’t offend you for anything in the world!” “My dear _Mills_!” cried the clergyman with the disdain demanded by so monstrous a suggestion. “It never occurred to me before,” Mills went on, his good humor only faintly tinged with irony, “it never struck me in just this way before, but I suppose if you were to preach to your congregation just what Jesus preached you’d empty the church.” “Well, of course----” began Lindley, with difficulty concealing his surprise at the dogged fashion in which Mills was pursuing the subject. “Of course you can’t do it!” With a bland smile Mills finished the sentence for him. “Jesus is the Great Example of a perfect life; but do we any of us really want to live as He lived?” “Ah, Mills, we can only approximate perfection; that’s the best we can hope for!” “Thank you! There’s some consolation in that!” Mills laughed. “But if we really took the teachings of Jesus literally we wouldn’t be sitting here; we’d be out looking up people who need shelter, food, cheer. As it is I’m not bothering my head about them. I pay others to do that--Carroll hands me a list of organizations he considers worthy of assistance and all I do is to sign the checks--ought to be ashamed of myself, oughtn’t I?” “Well, now, Mills,” Lindley laughed pleasantly, “that’s a matter I leave to your own conscience.” “But you oughtn’t to! It’s your duty to tell me that instead of riding up to a comfortable club today to eat luncheon with a couple of bankers I ought first to be sure that every man, woman and child in the community is clothed and fed and happy.” “What would you do if I did?” Lindley demanded, bending forward and regarding Mills fixedly. “I’d tell you to go to the Devil!” “There you are!” cried Lindley with a gesture of resignation. “You know your duty to your neighbor as well as I do. The affair isn’t between you and me, after all, my dear friend--it’s between you and God!” “God?” Mills repeated the word soberly, his eyes turning to the window and the picture it framed, of a sky blurred by the smoke of factory chimneys. “I wonder----” he added, half to himself. Lindley was puzzled and embarrassed, uncertain whether to try to explain himself further. His intuitions were keen and in his attempt to adjust himself to a new phase of Mills’s character he groped for an explanation of the man’s surprising utterances. There had been something a little wistful in Mills’s use of the word _God_. Lindley was sincerely eager to help where help was needed, but as he debated whether Mills really had disclosed any need that he could satisfy, Mills ended the matter by saying a little wearily: