The Elder rose. "Really, Brother Matthews, I cannot listen to such words
about our Elder!"
"I beg your pardon, sir," said Dan huskily. "I was thinking aloud. Please
tell me one thing more. I have here a letter from a church in Chicago
asking me to consider a call. Have the Elders received a letter from
them?"
"Ahem! Yes, we considered it at that same meeting."
"And you have written them?"
"We could not recommend you. I am sorry, Brother Matthews."
"I believe you are," said Dan slowly. "Thank you."
When the Elder was gone Dan turned sadly back to his little study; the
study that had come to stand so for everything to which he had devoted
his life with such holy purpose, for which he had sacrificed so much.
Slowly he went to his desk and looked down upon the work scattered over
it. Taking up the two letters he tore them slowly into fragments and
dropped them into the waste basket. Then as slowly he turned to his
books, touching many of the familiar volumes with a caressing hand. Then
he went to the table where lay his church papers and the missionary
pamphlets and reports. The envelope from Judge Strong caught his eye.
Mechanically he took his hat and went to carry the message to his friends
on the other side of the garden. From across the street the old Doctor
hailed him but he did not hear.
Delivering the envelope, with a few brief words, the minister left his
friends and wandered on down the street in a bewildered, dazed fashion,
scarce knowing where he went, or why; until he turned in through the gap
in the tumble-down fence to the old Academy yard.
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