“I hope I shan’t repent of it, but I don’t know. It may be noble and meritorious to sign the pledge, but a fellow needs to have twenty times as much man in him to keep it.” “Now you don’t mean to say, George, that you’ll allow such a vile appetite to regain its ascendency over you?” pleaded the preacher. “_’Tisn’t_ a vile appetite,” quickly replied the young man. “I need whisky as much as I need bread and butter--yes, and a great deal more, too. I have to open the store at sunrise, and keep it open till nine o’clock and after, have to make myself agreeable to anywhere from two to twenty people at a time, sell all I can, watch people who will steal the minute your eye is off of them, not let anybody feel neglected, and see that I get cash from everybody who isn’t good pay. When there isn’t anybody here, I’ve got to keep the books, see that the stock don’t run down in spots, and stir up people that are slow pay. The only way I can do it all is by taking something to help me. I _hate_ whisky--I’m going to try to leave it alone; but I tell you, Dominie, it’s going to be one of the biggest fights you ever knew a young man to go into.” The reverend listener was as easily depressed as he was exalted, and Doughty’s short speech had the effect of greatly elongating the minister’s countenance. Yet he had a great deal of that pertinacity which is as necessary to soldiers of the cross as it is to those of the bayonet; so he began manfully to search his mind for some weapon or means of defense which the clerk could use. Suddenly his countenance brightened, his benevolent eyes enlarged behind his glasses, and he exclaimed: “Just the thing! My dear young friend, the hand of Providence is in this matter. Your worthy employer was the chairman of our meeting last night; certainly he will be glad to give you such assistance as shall lessen the amount of your labors. Here he comes now. Let _me_ manage this affair; I really ask it as a favor.” “I’m much obliged, but I think--confound it!” ejaculated the young man, as his companion hastened out of earshot and buttonholed Squire Tomple. Half smiling and half frowning Doughty retired from the door, but took up a new position, from which he could see the couple. To the eyes of the clerk, his employer seemed a rock in his unchanging pose, while the old preacher, rich in many a grace not peculiar to country storekeepers, yet utterly ignorant of business and such of its perversions as are called requirements, seemed a mere lamb--a fancy which was strengthened by the incessant gesturing and change of position in which he indulged when in conversation. The pair soon separated; the minister walked away, his step seeming not so exultant as when he approached the merchant; while the latter, appearing to his clerk to be broader, deeper, and more solid than ever, approached the store, lifted up his head, displayed the face he usually wore when he found he had made a bad debt, and said,