“But I want you as much as Mr. Macdonald,” said Jean.  “It’s your advice I want—­about the money, you know.”

Mrs. Macdonald gave a deep sigh.  “Ah, money,” she said—­“the root of all evil.”

“Not at all, my dear,” her husband corrected.  “The love of money is the root of all evil—­a very different thing.  Money can be a very fine thing.”

“Oh,” said Jean, “that’s what I want you to tell me.  How can I make this money a blessing?”

Mr. Macdonald gave his twisted smile.

“And am I to answer you in one word, Jean?  I fear it’s a word too wide for a mouth of this age’s size.  You will have to make mistakes and learn by them and gradually feel your way.”

“The most depressing thing about money,” put in his wife, “is that the Bible should say so definitely that a rich man can hardly get into heaven.  Oh, I know all about a needle’s eye being a gate, but I’ve always a picture in my own mind of a camel and an ordinary darning-needle, and anything more hopeless could hardly be imagined.”

Mrs. Macdonald had taken up a half-finished sock, and, as she disposed of the chances of all the unfortunate owners of wealth, she briskly turned the heel.  Jean knew her hostess too well to be depressed by her, so she smiled at the minister, who said, “Heaven’s gate is too narrow for a man and his money; that goes without saying, Jean.”

Jean leant forward and said eagerly, “What I really want to know is about the tenth we are to put away as not being our own.  Does it count if it is given in charity, or ought it to be given to Church things and missions?”

“Whatever is given to God will ‘count,’ as you put it—­lighting, where you can, candles of kindness to cheer and warm and lighten.”

“I see,” said Jean.  “Of course, there are heaps of things one could slump money away on, hospitals and institutions and missions, but these are all so impersonal.  I wonder, would it be pushing and furritsome, do you think, if I tried to help ministers a little?—­ministers, I mean, with wives and families and small incomes shut away in country places and in the poor parts of big towns?  It would be such pleasant helping to me.”

“Now,” said Mrs. Macdonald, “that’s a really sensible idea, Jean.  There’s no manner of doubt that the small salaries of the clergy are a crying scandal.  I don’t like ministers to wail in the papers about it, but the laymen should wail until things are changed.  Ministers don’t enter the Church for the loaves and fishes, but the labourer is worthy of his hire, and they must have enough to live on decently.  Living has doubled.  I couldn’t manage as things are now, and I’m a good manager, though I says it as shouldn’t....  The fight I’ve had all my life nobody will ever know.  Now that we have plenty, I can talk about it.  I never hinted it to anybody when we were struggling through; indeed, we washed our faces and anointed our heads and appeared not unto men to fast!