"Yes," said Dr. Lavendar; "'to his own hurt,' but not to somebody
else's hurt. You swore to your father's, to your children's, to the
community's hurt. Change as quickly as you can. Come up the hill with
me to-night."

"I can't," Samuel Wright said hoarsely, and into his hard eyes came
the same look of childish terror that the old minister had seen in
Benjamin Wright's face when he sat in the hot sunshine watching the
canaries.

Then Dr. Lavendar began to plead....

It was a long struggle. Sometimes it really seemed as if, as the
senior warden had said, he "could not" do it; as if it were a physical
impossibility. And there is no doubt that to change a habit of thought
which has endured for thirty-two years involves a physical as well as
a spiritual effort, which may cause absolute anguish. Mr. Wright's
face was white; twice he wiped the perspiration from his forehead:
half a dozen times he said in an agonized tone, "I cannot do it; I
_cannot._"

"Samuel, your father is very old; he is very feeble; but he has had
the strength to take the first step. Haven't you the strength to take
the second? Will you carry your wicked quarrel to his grave? No, Sam,
no! I am sure you won't."...

An hour later, when Dr. Lavendar sat down to a dinner of more than
ordinary Sunday coldness, his old face was twinkling with pleasure.
Samuel had promised to go with him that night to The Top! Perhaps as
the still afternoon softened into dusk his joy began to cast a shadow