The Unknown Wrestler Part 3

CONSCIENCE MONEY

The rector of St. Margaret's was visibly annoyed as he hung up the telephone receiver. "Confound that fellow," he muttered, "where can he be? I have phoned to him six times and can get no answer. I shall not call him again. I'm really glad he's going for he gets on my nerves with all his odd notions." Turning to his desk, he continued his work upon his sermon for next Sunday morning.

It was a large, comfortable study, and the walls were well lined with books. Dr. Rannage was noted far and wide as a deep student, as well as a great preacher. The people of St. Margaret's were proud of their rector's ability, and listened, so they often told him, with delight to his intellectual sermons. He was particularly at home when dealing with the Major and Minor Prophets or on the Textual Criticism of the Bible. Regular Pastoral Visitation he disliked, and left most of such work to his curate, though occasionally he called upon the most influential members of his flock. He was a special favourite in social circles, and being a brilliant afterdinner speaker he was much in demand to grace numerous festive gatherings. Little wonder, then, that Dr. Rannage had no time for anything else but the preparation of his Sunday sermons, of which work he was very fond.

To-night, however, he could not concentrate his thoughts upon his subject. His mind would wander, and several times he found himself thinking of the dinner he had that evening with his Bishop. He knew that the position of Archdeacon was vacant, and he was fondly hoping that he would be favoured with the appointment. It would be another step, so he mused, up the ecclesiastical ladder leading to the Episcopate.

He had forgotten all about his sermon and was thinking deeply of the prospects of his advancement, when his curate, Douglas Stanton, entered the room unannounced.

"You are over half an hour late, Stanton," Dr. Rannage chided, as he motioned his visitor to a chair. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I am very sorry," Douglas replied, as he took the proffered chair. "I intended to be here on time, but was unavoidably detained."

"I dined with the Bishop to-night," and Dr. Rannage toyed with a small paper-weight as he spoke, "and was forced to leave in the midst of a most important discussion in order to keep my appointment with you."

"What were you discussing?" Douglas enquired.

"We were considering the best methods of dealing with the submerged population of our city; that is, those unfortunate beings who inhabit the slums and the waterfront."

"Did you arrive at any definite conclusion?"

"We had not time; for, as I have just mentioned, I was forced to come away to meet you."

"And while you were discussing methods of helping the unfortunate, I was rescuing one from the water down at Long Wharf."

Douglas spoke slowly, and he watched to see the effect of his words.

But Dr. Rannage did not seem to notice the implied sarcasm, nor the sharp contrast between theory and practice.

"So that is what you were doing, eh?" the latter questioned. "You seem to enjoy being down there."

"I enjoy helping the unfortunate, and because I am not allowed to continue the work, I have sent in my resignation."

"But you must remember that you have a duty to the parish as a whole, and not to one portion of it only."

"Haven't I tried to do my duty? I have visited in season and out of season, and worked like a dog for the two years I have been with you."

"But I have received complaints that you are unsociable, and that you refuse all invitations to, ah, friendly gatherings and such like affairs."

"You mean card-parties and afternoon teas, I suppose," Douglas sharply replied. "If so, I plead guilty. Haven't I taken a keen interest in the Boy Scouts, the Young Men's Club, the Sunday School, and dear knows what? Any spare time I had I spent at the water-front in an effort to follow my Master's example of putting my religion into practice. How dare I waste my time sipping tea at this house and that, and talking nice little nothings to the b.u.t.terflies who gather there, when there is so much to be done, and precious souls to be helped and saved?"

"But the b.u.t.terflies, of whom you speak so contemptuously, need to be helped as well."

"No one knows that better than I do," Douglas bitterly a.s.sented. "But until they are willing to throw aside their vain pretensions of being the salt of the earth and better than others, I am afraid little can be done. They dislike me because I speak my mind too freely, and refuse to waste my time at their senseless gatherings. They desire some one who will flatter their vanity and condone their idleness."

"You are making serious charges, young man," Dr. Rannage severely replied. His curate's words had hit him hard, and he winced, for he knew how true they were. "If that is the feeling you entertain for innocent amus.e.m.e.nts, it is just as well you should sever your connection with this parish. When do you expect to leave?"

"At once."

"And where do you intend to go?"

"I have not the slightest idea. The future to me is a complete blank.

Something will turn up, I suppose. If not, I have two hands and a strong body."

"Look here, Stanton," and Dr. Rannage swung suddenly around on his swivel chair, "you must not get downhearted."

"I am not," was the reply.

"Well, perhaps you are not, but I do not like the idea of your going from me with nothing in view. Do you know the parish of Rixton?"

"Yes, I have heard of it, though I know very little about it."

"It seems that it has been vacant for some time, and it is most difficult to get any one to go there. By the way, I met Mr. Simon Stubbles at dinner to-night. He is the leading man at Rixton, and the Bishop and I were much impressed with him. He is very wealthy, so I understand; has a large sawmill, and carries on extensive lumbering operations. He is greatly concerned about the spiritual welfare of Rixton, and is most anxious that a suitable clergyman should be sent there. He is quite willing to contribute liberally if the right man is found."

"Why did the last one leave?" Douglas asked.

"He was not big enough for the work, so I learned from the brief conversation I had with Mr. Stubbles. It is a most difficult parish, composed princ.i.p.ally of mill-men, woodsmen, and a few farmers. It seems that the last clergyman used no tact at all in dealing with them, and thus antagonised everybody, Mr. Stubbles included."

"So you think that I would suit, do you?" and Douglas looked quizzically at Dr. Rannage.

"I believe you are just the man for the place."

"What makes you think so?"

"Because you know the ways of such people. You were born in the country, were you not?"

"Why not let young Harmon have a try there? He is one of your boys, and has just been ordained. Would it not be well for him to win his spurs in a parish such as Rixton?"

"Oh, but he is a banker's son, you know, and we could not think of sending him there."

"So I supposed," was the bitter reply, "though I never for a moment imagined that you would so candidly acknowledge it."

"Acknowledge what?" Dr. Rannage queried.

"That because Harmon is a banker's son he would not be sent to an out-of-the-way country parish. His father is influential and can influence those in authority, so he is booked for an important charge in Silverton, so I understand. I am merely the son of a poor, honest farmer, and so any old place will do for me."

"See here, young man, you have no right to talk that way," Dr. Rannage retorted. "If you continue, I shall be compelled to report you to the Bishop."

"Report all you like, but you both know it's true, and you cannot deny it. Harmon barely sc.r.a.ped through college, but he is considered a gentleman's son, and understands the ways of polite society. Mark my words, his career will be followed with great interest, and everything he does will be noted and favourably commented upon. It will not be long before he will be an Archdeacon, or a Dean, and finally a Bishop."

"Are you jealous of Harmon?" Dr. Rannage asked. "That is the only conclusion I can draw from your sarcastic remarks."

"Jealousy has nothing to do with it," was the quick reply. "It is merely justice that I demand, a right for every man to be judged according to what he is and does, irrespective of what his father is, or any influence he may exert. The Church is the last place where such injustice should be allowed. But, there, what is the use of my talking to you or any one else, when you attribute my feeling to jealousy?"

Douglas had risen, and stood with his hat in his hand ready to depart.

"So you don't feel inclined to try Rixton, then?" Dr. Rannage asked.

He was quite amused at his curate's words, and considered them merely the outburst of a hot-headed youth. Douglas noted this, and with a great effort controlled himself.