"Yes, oftener than we mean it, God forgive us," sighed Mr. Chaffe. "'Tis often only a word and too few respect it. Us have all written so to people we hate, and would like to think was going to be found dead in their beds to-morrow. Such is the weakness of human nature." "We must be civil even to enemies," said the sick man. "I wonder," mused Melinda. "It's a bit mean to hide our feelings so much." "Warner Chave was a fine example," answered Mr. Chaffe. "Foes he had a plenty, as such a straight and pushing chap must; but he never quarrelled with man or mouse. He never gave any living soul a straw to catch hold of. His simple rule was that it takes two to a quarrel, and he'd never be one; and he never was. Why! He got on with his relations even!" "How?" asked Maynard. "Never criticised 'em. Such was his amazing skill that he let them live their lives their own way, and treated 'em with just the same respect he showed to everybody else." They enjoyed tea in a cheerful temper, and Arthur Chaffe had continually to remind them it was Sunday. Then he prepared to depart and Maynard left with him. In the high road they, too, separated, for their ways were opposite. "I laugh, but with sorrow in my heart," said Arthur, "for that dear man be going down the hill terrible fast to the experienced eye. We shall miss him--there's a lot of Christian charity to him, and I only wish to God he'd got the true Light. That's all he wants. The heart be there and the ideas; but his soul just misses the one thing needful." "I hope not," said Maynard. "He's earned the best we can wish for." "It may come yet," prophesied Arthur. "It may flash in upon him at the last. Where there's life, there's hope of salvation. Us must never forget that the prayers of a righteous man availeth much, Maynard." "And the life of a righteous man availeth more, Mr. Chaffe," answered Lawrence. "That we ain't told," replied the elder. "We can only leave the doubter to the mercy of his Maker; and there's many and many got to be left like that, for doubt's growing, worse luck. Us say 'sure and certain hope' over a lot of mortal dust, when too well our intellects tell us the hope ban't so certain nor yet sure as us would like to feel." He perked away on his long, thin legs, like a friendly stork, and Maynard set his face upward for his home. CHAPTER XVII DINAH