There he sat
at his desk, too much absorbed to notice my entrance. Before him lay a
large pile of one-thousand-dollar United States Government bonds, and he
was clipping off the coupons. That face! it was a study as he sat using
the big pair of scissors. A hungry boy in the act of taking into his
mouth a ripe cherry, a mother gazing down into the face of her pretty
sleeping child, a lover looking into the eyes of his charmer, are but
faint figures by which to express the intense pleasure he felt in his
work. But there was also a feline element in his joy--his handling of
those bonds was somewhat like a cat toying with its prey. When at length
he raised his head, there was a fierce gleam in his eye and a flush in
his face. I had come upon a devotee engaged in worship. This was Mike
Reese, the miser and millionaire. Placing his huge left-hand on the pile
of bonds, he gruffly returned my salutation,
"Good morning."
He turned as he spoke, and east a look of scrutiny into my face which
said plain enough that he wanted me to make known my business with him
at once.
I told him what was wanted. At the request of the official board of the
Minna-street Church I had come to ask him to make a contribution toward
the payment of its debt.
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