“All right, then,” said Miss Gladys, “that
will do very well. You come to-morrow, Sophie.
And good-by, Samuel. I must go for my ride now.”
“Good-by, Miss Gladys,” said Samuel.
“And please don’t forget what you were
going to say to Master Albert!”
Samuel went home walking upon air. He had found
a place for himself and a place for Sophie. And
he had got the reforming of Bertie Lockman under way!
Truly, the church was a great institution—the
solution of all the puzzles and problems of life.
And fortunate was Samuel to be so close to the inner
life of things!
Then suddenly, on a street corner, he stopped short.
A sign had caught his eye-"John Callahan, Wines and
Liquors—Bernheimer Beer.” “Do
you know what that place is?” he said to Sophie.
“That’s where my friend Finnegan works.”
“Who’s Finnegan?” asked the child.
“He’s the barkeeper who gave me something
to eat when I first came to town. He’s
a good man, even if he is a barkeeper.”
Samuel had often found himself thinking of Finnegan;
for it had been altogether against his idea of things
that a man so obviously well meaning should be selling
liquor. And now suddenly a brilliant idea flashed
across his mind. Why should he continue selling
liquor? And instantly Samuel saw a new duty before
him. He must help Finnegan.
And forgetting that it was time for his dinner, he
bade good-by to Sophie and went into the saloon.
“Well, young feller!” exclaimed the Irishman,
his face lighting up with pleasure; and then, seeing
the boy’s new collar and tie, “Gee, you’re
moving up in the world!”
“I’ve got a job,” said Samuel proudly.
“I’m the assistant sexton at St. Matthew’s
Church.”
“You don’t say! Gone up with the
sky pilots, hey!”
Samuel did not notice this irreverent remark.
He looked around the place and saw that they were
alone. Then he said, very earnestly, “Mr.
Finnegan, may I have a few minutes’ talk with
you?”
“Sure,” said Finnegan perplexed.
“What is it?”
“It’s something I’ve been thinking
about very often,” said Samuel. “You
were so kind to me, and I saw that you were a good-hearted
man. And so it has always seemed to me too bad
that you should be selling drink.”
The other stared at him. “Gee!” he
said, “are you going to take me up in your airship?”
“Mr. Finnegan,” said the boy, “I
wish you wouldn’t make fun of me. For I’m
talking to you out of the bottom of my heart.”
And Samuel gazed with so much yearning in his eyes
that the man was touched, in spite of the absurdity
of it. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll
listen.”
“It’s just this,” said Samuel.
“It’s wrong to sell liquor! Think
what drink does to men? I saw a man drunk the
other night and it led to what was almost murder.
Drink makes men cruel and selfish. It takes away
their self-control. It makes them unfit for their
work. It leads to vice and wickedness. It
enslaves them and degrades them. Don’t you
know that is true, Mr. Finnegan?”
