What does it matter?"
"Well, tell me, did those who know how I came to town, know that I
would be there tonight?"
"_No, sir,_" said Charlie, emphatically. "What do you take me for,
Dick?"
"Forgive me," said Dick. "I ought to have known better, only you see
my experience with church people, and--well--I'm a bit sore I guess.
I couldn't believe there were any like those. I didn't know, that's
all," and with a "good-night," he turned down the street toward his
humble lodging place, while Charlie went on toward home.
"Yes, that's all," said the latter to himself. "Dick didn't know; and
that's what's the matter with hundreds of fellows just like him; they
don't know what real Christianity is like; they see so much of the
sham; but he'll find out though, or I'm mistaken. My, what a worker
he would make, with his experience and talents, if only once he got
started right. He just made that old street song burn its way into the
heart, and I felt like I wanted to be a brother to every poor, homeless
chap in the world."
Meanwhile, Dick had reached the office, and throwing off his coat,
laid aside his collar, tie and cuffs. Then seating himself in the
rickety old chair, he tilted back as far as possible and fixed his
feet as high as he could get them, against the big Prouty press.
Five--ten--fifteen-minutes went by, Dick sat without moving a muscle.
The clanging bell of the eleven-thirty train on the "Memphis" pulling
into the depot, sounded plainly in his ear, but still he sat immovable.
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