But Lord Wrotham was a rich man--and no doubt he would have paid a handsome sum down in compensation----" "Compensation!" And Helmsley suddenly stood up, drawing his frail thin figure erect--"Compensation! Money! Money for a child's life--money for a child's love! Are you a minister of Christ, that you can talk of such a thing as possible?
What is all the wealth of the world compared to the life of one beloved human creature! Reverend sir, I am an old poor man,--a tramp as you say, consorting with rogues and ruffians--but were I as rich as the richest millionaire that ever 'sweated' honest labour, I would rather shoot myself than offer money compensation to a father for the loss of a child whom my selfish pleasure had slain!" He trembled from head to foot with the force of his own eloquence, and Arbroath stared at him dumb-foundered.
"You are a preacher,"-- went on Helmsley--"You are a teacher of the Gospel.

Do you find anything in the New Testament that gives men licence to ride rough-shod over the hearts and emotions of their fellow-men?
Do you find there that selfishness is praised or callousness condoned?
In those sacred pages are we told that a sparrow's life is valueless, or a child's prayer despised?
Sir, if you are a Christian, teach Christianity as Christ taught it--_honestly_!" Arbroath turned livid.
"How dare you--!" he began--when Mary quietly rose.
"I would advise you to be going, sir,"-- she said, quite courteously--"The old man is not very strong, and he has a trouble of the heart.

It is little use for persons to argue who feel so differently.

We poor folk do not understand the ways of the gentry." And she held open the door of her cottage for him to pass out.

He pressed his slouch-hat more heavily over his eyes, and glared at her from under the shadow of its brim.
"You are harbouring a dangerous customer in your house!" he said--"A dangerous customer! It will be my duty to warn the parish against him!" She smiled.
"You are very welcome to do so, sir! Good-morning!" And as he tramped away through her tiny garden, she quickly shut and barred the door after him, and hurried to Helmsley in some anxiety, for he looked very pale, and his breath came and went somewhat rapidly.
"David dear, why did you excite yourself so much over that man!" she said, kneeling beside him as he sank back exhausted in his chair--"Was it worth while ?" He patted her head with a tremulous hand.
"Perhaps not!" And he smiled--"Perhaps not, Mary! But the cold-blooded way in which he said that a money compensation might have been offered to poor Tom o' the Gleam for his little child's life--my God! As if any sort of money could compare with love!" He stroked her hair gently, and went on murmuring to himself-- "As if all the gold in the world could make up for the loss of one loving heart!" Mary was silent.