I had won my gloves--and in a day. I thought remorsefully of the poor Saga hero destined to wait a week in suspense as to the result. But it was too late to remedy this, and the organization of the Charity Concert needed all my thoughts. I was in for it now, and I resolved to carry it through. But it was not so easy as I had lightly assumed. Getting the artists, of course, was nothing--there are always so many professionals out of work or anxious to be brought out, and so many amateurs in search of amusement. I could have filled the Albert Hall with entertainers. Nor did I anticipate any difficulty in disposing of the tickets. If you are at all popular in society you can get a good deal of unpopularity by forcing them on your friends. No, the real difficulty about this Charity Concert was the discovery of an object in aid of which to give it. In my innocence I had imagined that the world was simply bustling with unexploited opportunities for well-doing. Alas! I soon found that philanthropy was an over-crowded profession. There was not a single nook or corner of the universe but had been ransacked by these restless free-lances; not a gap, not a cranny but had been filled up. In vain I explored the map, in the hopes of lighting on some undiscovered hunting-ground in far Cathay or where the khamsin sweeps the Afric deserts. I found that the wants of the most benighted savages were carefully attended to, and that, even when they had none, they were thoughtfully supplied with them. Anxiously I scanned the newspapers in search of a calamity, the sufferers by which I might relieve, but only one happened during that week, and that was snatched from between my very fingers by a lady who had just been through the Divorce Court. In my despair I bethought myself of the preacher I sat under. He was a very handsome man, and published his sermons by request. I went to him and I said: "How is the church?" "It is all right, thank you," he said. "Doesn't it want anything done to it?" "No, it is in perfect repair. My congregation is so very good." I groaned aloud. "But isn't there any improvement that you would like?" "The last of the gargoyles was put up last week. Mediæval architecture is always so picturesque. I have had the entire structure made mediæval, you know." "But isn't the outside in need of renovation?" "What! When I have just had it made mediæval!" "But the interior--there must be something defective somewhere!" "Not to my knowledge." "But think! think!" I cried desperately. "The aisles--transept--nave--lectern--pews--chancel--pulpit--apse--porch-- altar-cloths--organ--spires--is there nothing in need of anything?" He shook his head. "Wouldn't you like a colored window to somebody?" "All the windows are taken up. My congregation is so very good." "A memorial brass then?" He mused. "There is only one of my flock who has done anything memorable lately."