"
"They can't possibly get along, Edward; they
will suffer."
"They have a little money, haven't they?"
"Only a little in savings-bank. The interest pays
their taxes."
"And you gave them that?"
Jim colored.
"Very well, their taxes are paid for this year;
let them use that money. They will not suffer, ex-
cept in their feelings, and that is where they ought
to suffer. Man, you would spoil all the work of the
Lord by your selfish tenderness toward sinners!"
"They aren't sinners."
"Yes, they are -- spiritual sinners, the worst kind
in the world. Now --"
"You don't mean for me to go now?"
"Yes, I do -- now. If you don't go now you never
will. Then, afterward, I want you to go home and
sit in your best parlor and smoke, and have all your
cats in there, too."
Jim gasped. "But, Edward! Mis' Adkins --"
"I don't care about Mrs. Adkins. She isn't as
bad as the rest, but she needs her little lesson,
too."
"Edward, the way that poor woman works to
keep the house nice -- and she don't like the smell
of tobacco smoke."
"Never mind whether she likes it or not. You
smoke."
"And she don't like cats."
"Never mind. Now you go."
Jim stood up. There was a curious change in his
rosy, child-like face. There was a species of quicken-
ing. He looked at once older and more alert.
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