"Because the present order suits him well enough," suggested Tom.
"While he does not see that it is shaken to its very foundations—that he and all he has may be swept away by some tidal wave of social devastation unless a better way be found."
"But what of the money?" persisted Tom.
"That is the difficulty so far, I admit. I have nothing to invest. A few hundreds have been promised by some friends, but what are they?"
"Never mind," said the clergyman; "it will come, I am sure. You will be able to work out your schemes by some means yet."
The doctor lay back on his lounge looking doubtful and troubled.
"It's faith you are depending upon then, Rev. Sir," said Tom. "What'll faith do for you, if you have not the cash?"
"Faith!" exclaimed the young man, jumping up—"faith with power that comes of enthusiasm and high aim, of sympathy for sorrow and suffering, with impatience of wrongs; faith such as animates our good friend—incentive rare enough in these cold, calculating days— will overcome everything. Mark my words, the doctor will do it!"
"On the strength of capital, not of faith," persisted the incorrigible Tom.
