His questions, when he
asked them, had a more surprising sound to himself than to the person who
answered. And they vexed him--but not Summerman. When Mr. Rush asked him
if he supposed it possible for them to sing in the way signified, he
replied quite confidently:
"Yes, if they only knew what they were about."
"But you explained that to them?"
"Well, then, yes, if they believed it; for after all, belief is of the
heart."
"You don't think they believe it?"
"It's a hard thing to say. But if they did, they would do better. They
are not a happy set altogether. They whine--they talk one thing, and live
another. One of them lost a little money the other day--pretty nearly all
he had, I suppose--but what of that?"
"What of that!" exclaimed Mr. Rush, and he looked at the organist amazed.
"Yes, what of it? The man has his health and his faculties. What's money?"
"What's money!"
"Yes, sir, when you come to the point--what is it? Eyes, hands,
feet--blood, brain, heart, soul? You would think so to hear him talk. It's
dust! I've seen that proved, sir, and I know 'tis true!"
"You don't allow for circumstances," said the stranger, sharply.
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