"The question before the house," said Jim Blaisdell, "is, are we justified in playing politics to bolster up a young man we're afraid can't stand on his merits? _I_ don't fancy pulling wires--in church matters, that is." "The question," said Mrs. Jim, "is no such a thing. It is, whether we're to let that insufferable Dick Holden give us another St. Christopher's?" "Or to help make a strong fruitful life?" amended Jonathan. "I can't quite see Davy as strong," said Jim, "though he is paying his debts. But Dick certainly is getting to be a conceited duffer. The ayes," he sighed, "seem to have it. The next question is ways and means. Old Bixby's method in St. X looks good to me. A conditional contribution--what do you say?" "How much?" inquired the practical Mrs. Jim. Jim took out an envelope, did sums in subtraction and division and held out the result to his wife. She took it from him, did a sum herself--in multiplication--and exhibited that result to him. "Woman," he cried, "would you rob me? I'm no Standard Oil." "It's the least I can possibly consider," she answered him firmly. "You can't expect to play good fairy without paying for the privilege. Now, Mr. Radbourne, what will you do?" Jonathan, too, took out an envelope, wrote slowly a row of figures, scratched it out, wrote another and handed it doubtfully to Mrs. Jim. "Will that do," he inquired, "for a starter?" Mrs. Jim gave him a special smile. "_That_ is something like." She waved Jonathan's figures under her husband's nose. "There, Mr. Pinchapenny! Are you blushing for shame?" "Phew!" whistled Jim. "If that's how he squanders his money, he needn't ever come asking credit of me." He grinned at Jonathan. "Davy must be a mighty poor workman, when you'll pay so high to get rid of him." "Oh, no," Jonathan protested. "It will be very hard to fill his place--in one way entirely impossible. But, you see, Davy and I have become good friends, and--" "And of course," Mrs. Jim put in sweetly, "in friendship one forgets one is a shaver of notes." "Oh, my hands are up," Jim groaned. "I'll match your figures, Radbourne. But, for heaven's sake, don't raise me again!" "What I'd like to know," said Jim, when Jonathan was gone, "is, why we are going to the poorhouse for Davy Quentin?" "First," said his wife, "because we know Davy will do work that is worth while and because he is Davy. Second, because it is good for us to give a little out of our much." "No one helped me when I was poor," growled Jim. "That," she explained, "was because you were known to have a talent for helping yourself--and because you married me, who am help enough for any man." "There may be something in that," Jim was forced to concede. "Shirley still at her aunt's?" "Yes." "Hmmmm! Mighty long visit. What's she doing there?" "Having a very good time." "While Davy--hmmmm! Any trouble there, do you suppose?"