"Come in!" said, Benjamin Wright. "Hello, Lavendar. Hello--"

Alas! at that moment Samuel's cracked and patched-up self-respect
suddenly crumbled;--his presence of mind deserted him, and scrambling
like an embarrassed boy into a marked discourtesy, he thrust both
hands into his pockets. Instantly he realized his self-betrayal, but
it was too late; his father, after a second's hesitation, occupied
both his hands with the decanter and cigar-box.

"Well; here we are, Benjamin!" said Dr. Lavendar.

"Take a cigar," said the very old man; he held the box out, and it
shook so that the loose cigars jarred within it. Dr. Lavendar helped
himself. "Have one--" Benjamin Wright said, and thrust the box at the
silent standing figure.

"I--do not smoke." Samuel slid into a seat near the door, and
balancing his hat carefully on his knees twisted one leg about the leg
of his chair.

His father bustled around to the other side of the table. "That
doggoned nigger brought up Kentucky instead of Monongahela!" He lifted
the decanter and began to fill the glasses.

"Hold on! hold on! Don't swamp us," said Dr. Lavendar, He leaned over
to rescue his tumbler, and his good-natured scolding made an instant's
break in the intensity.

"Have some?" said Mr. Wright, turning to his son.