"Padre," said the boy to me, some time later, "that chap upstairs is the hardest nut I ever tried to crack. There've been times when I felt tempted to crack him with a sledge-hammer, if you want the truth. You know, he always seemed to like me to read to him, but I've never been able to discover whether or not he liked what I read. He never asked me a single question, he never seemed interested enough to make a comment. But I think that I've made a dent in him at last." "A dent! In Flint? With what adamantine pick, oh hardiest of miners!" "With a book. Guess!" "I couldn't. I give up." "The Bible!" said Laurence. The Bible! Had _I_ chosen to read it to him, he would have resented it, been impervious, suspicious, hostile. I looked at the boy's laughing face, and wondered, and wondered. "And how," said I, curious, "did you happen to pitch on the Bible?" "Why, I got to studying about this chap. I wanted something that'd _reach him_. I was puzzled. And then I remembered hearing my father say that the Bible is the most interesting book in the world because it's the most personal. There's something in it for everybody. So I thought there'd be something in it for John Flint, and I tried it on him, without telling him what I was giving him. I just plunged right in, head over heels. Lord, Padre, it _is_ a wonderful old book, isn't it? Why, I got so lost in it myself that I forgot all about John Flint, until I happened to glance up and see that he was up to the eyes in it, just like I was! He likes the fights and he gloats over the spoils. He's asking for more. I think of turning Paul loose on him." "Well, if after the manner of men Paul fought with wild beasts at Ephesus," I said hopefully. "I dare say he'll be able to hold his own even with John Flint." "I like Paul best of all, myself," said Laurence. "You see, Padre, my father and I have needed a dose of Paul more than once--to stiffen our backbones. So I'm going to turn the fighting old saint loose on John Flint. 'By, Padre;--I'll look in to-morrow--I left poor old Elijah up in a cave with no water, and the ravens overdue!" He went down our garden path whistling, his cap on the back of his head, and I looked after him with the warm and comforting sense that the world is just that much better for such as he. The boy was now, in his last high school year, planning to study law--all the Maynes took to law as a duck to water. Brave, simple-hearted, direct, clear-thinking, scrupulously honorable,--this was one of the diamonds used to cut the rough hard surface of Slippy McGee. CHAPTER III NEIGHBORS