The old minister gave him a quick look--his senior warden was
trembling! The cloak of careful pomposity with which for so many years
this poor maimed soul had covered its scars, was dropping away. He was
clutching at it--clearing his throat, swinging his foot, making
elaborate show of ease; but the cloak was slipping and slipping, and
there was the man of fifty-six cringing with the mortification of
youth! It was a sight from which to turn away even the most pitying
eyes. Dr. Lavendar turned his away; when he spoke it was with great
gentleness.

"I don't know that I quite agree with you, Sam, any more than with
your father; but still, if you don't want the boy to go away, can't we
convince your father that he is in no real danger of a broken heart?
If he goes too far, I am sure we can trust Mrs. Richie to snub him
judiciously. You think so, don't you, Samuel?"

"Yes;--Dr. Lavendar."

"Do you hear that, Wright?"

Benjamin Wright took off his hat and banged it down on the table. Then
he threw away another barely lighted cigar, put his hand into the blue
ginger-jar for some orange-skin, and looked closely at his son; his
agitation had quite disappeared. "I hear," he said calmly.

But as he grew calm, Mr. Samuel Wright's embarrassment became more
agonizing, nor was it lessened by the very old man's quite obvious
interest in it; his head, in its brown wig, was inclined a little to
one side, like a canary's, and his black eyes helped out the
likeness--except that there was a carefully restrained gleam of humor