So it happened that Harry went on with Bim and Abe to the little house in Hopedale.  Jack Kelso sat reading in the shade of a tree by his door-step.

“I hope you feel as good as you look,” Abe called, as they rode up.

“I’ve been feeling like a fly in a drum,” Jack answered.  “I’ve just heard a sermon by Peter Cartwright.”

“What do you think of him?”

“He is saturated in the statistics of vice.  His Satan is too busy; his hell is too big, too hot and too durable.  He is a kind of human onion designed to make women weep.”

Abe answered with a laugh: 

“It is said that General Jackson went into his church one Sunday and that a deacon notified Mr. Cartwright of the presence of the great man.  They say that the stern preacher exclaimed in a clearly audible tone:  General Jackson!  What does God care for General Jackson?  If he don’t repent, God will damn him as quick as he would damn a Guinea nigger.’”

“He’s just that thumping, downright kind of a man,” Kelso remarked.  “How are you getting on with the books?”

“I have Chitty on Contracts strapped to the pommel,” said Abe.  “I did my stint coming over, but I had to walk and lead the pony.”

“Every book you read gets a baptism of Democracy,” said Kelso.  “An idle aristocracy of the shelves loafing in fine coats and immaculate linen is not for the wise man.  Your book has to roll up its sleeves and go to work and know the touch of the sweaty hand.  Swift used to say that some men treat books as they do Lords—­learn their titles and then brag of having been in their company.  There are no Lords and Ladies among your books.  They are just men and women made for human service.”

“I don’t read long at once,” Abe remarked.  “I scratch into a book, like a hen on a barn floor, until my crop is full, and then I digest what I have taken.”

Harry and Bim had put out the horses.  Now the girl came and sat on her father’s knee.  Harry sat down by the side of Abe on the grass in the oak’s shadow.

“It is a joy to have the little girl back again,” said Kelso, as he touched her hair with his hand.  “It is still as yellow as a corn tassel.  I wonder it isn’t gray.”

“Her eyes look as bright as ever to-day,” said Harry.

“No compliments, please.  I want you to be downright mean,” Bim protested.

Kelso looked up with a smile:  “My boy, it was Leonardo da Vinci who said that a man could have neither a greater nor a less dominion than that over himself.”

“What a cruel-looking villain he is!” Bim exclaimed, with a smile.  “I wouldn’t dare say what I think of him.”

“If you keep picking on me I’ll cut loose and express my opinion of you,” he retorted.

“Your opinions have ceased to be important,” she answered, with a look of indifference.

“I think this is a clear case of assault and flattery,” said Kelso.