Dr. Lavendar's stern lip trembled with anxiety. "What?"

"I--chastised him; a little."

"You--_what_?"

Benjamin Wright nodded; the wrinkled pouches under his eyes grew dully
red. "My God!" he said plaintively; "think of that--a hasty moment!
Thirty-two years; my God! I--spanked him."

Dr. Lavendar opened his lips to speak, but found no words.

"And he was offended! Offended? What right had he to be offended?
_I_ was the offended party. He went to a low theatre. Apparently
you see nothing wrong in that? Well, I've always said that every
parson had the making of an actor in him. It's a toss-up--the stage or
the pulpit. Same thing at bottom. But perhaps even you won't approve
of his staying away all night? Smoking! Drinking! He'd been drunk. He
confessed it. And there was a woman in it. He confessed that. Said
they'd all 'gone to supper together.' Said that he was 'seeing the
world'--which a man ('_man_,' if you please!) of his years had a
right to do. Well; I suppose you'd have had me smile at him, and tuck
him up in bed to sleep off his headache, and give him a stick of
candy? That wasn't my way. I reproved him. I--chastised him. Perfectly
proper. Perhaps--unusual. He was twenty-four, and I laid him across my
knee, and--well; I got over it in fifteen minutes. I was, perhaps,
hasty My temper in those days was not what it is now. But I forgave
him in fifteen minutes; and he had gone! He's been gone--for thirty-
two years. My God!"