The Judge’s countenance changed, like the sudden turning down of a light, and he made a distressful gesture. "Don’t, William; don’t say that." "Why, what did I say to shock you so?" The Judge got up and slowly walked back into his office. William looked at Mrs. Elbridge. "Rachel, did I say anything?" "He isn’t well, William, and we never know what is going to displease him. But he means nothing by it, Mr. Bradley," she added. "Sometimes he begins to joke in its old way, but it has been long since we heard his laugh in its old heartiness. I wish you would talk to him, Mr. Bradley. I know he is not well, but he won’t permit a doctor to come near him." The preacher assured her that he would. He did not believe that there was any serious trouble; it was the strain of former years now claiming its debt of his constitution. "Nature does not forget," said he. "But nature may be humored. I have noticed a change in him, but I am inclined to think that he is gradually improving." Howard was silent, though the minister looked at him at the conclusion of his speech as if expecting some sort of reply. "He doesn’t forget about my dates, no matter how much of a change he has undergone," said William. "But, as to our discussion: I read some little in those days, and my mind led me into bogs and swamps—into doubts, if I may say so. It seemed to me that the whole plan was marked out and couldn’t be changed. I remember having come across this startling question: ’If man can make his own destiny; if he can, by his own free will, arrest the accomplishment of the general plan, what becomes of God?’ That struck me, sir, like a knockout blow." "And yet," said Howard, "you say that the French have a slop which they call literature." "What! I said so? Well, what if I did?" "You have quoted Balzac." "Have I? But, sir, do you appoint yourself to preside over my conscience?" "I didn’t say anything about your conscience, Uncle Billy." "Oh, no, but you Uncle Billy me into a broil, that’s what you do." The preacher’s mind had caught the quotation, relating as it did to the shop, and he smiled as he said: "I am afraid, Uncle William, that the young man has read too much for us. In an argument he is a porcupine with sharp quills." "A pig with the bristles of impudence," said William, and smiled an apology to the mother. "Nevertheless," remarked the preacher, returning to the subject, "I don’t see how the eye of faith could have been dimmed by such a mote. Conscience—" "Meaning education," Howard interrupted. The minister bowed to Howard, but continued to address himself to William. "Conscience ought to have pointed out the good you could do. You could at least have gone to a foreign country—" "Or off Van Buren Street," said Howard.