"Give me time; give me time, I beg," cried the major, wiping his forehead, and evidently in some perturbation. "I would not willingly begin anything I should disgrace, for that would be to disgrace myself, and I never had any will to that, though the old ladies of our village used to say I was born without any shame. But the main cause of my unpopularity was that I hated humbug--and I do hate humbug, cousin Hester, and shall hate it till I die--and so want to steer clear of it." "I hate it, I hope, as much as you do, major Marvel," responded Hester. "But, whatever it may be mixed up with, what is true, you know, cannot be humbug, and what is not true cannot be anything else than humbug." "Yes, yes! but how is one to know what is true, my dear? There are so many differing claims to the quality!" "I have been told, and I believe it with all my heart," replied Hester, "that the only way to know what is true is to do what is true." "But you must know what is true before you can begin to do what is true." "Everybody knows something that is true to do--that is, something he ought to lose no time in setting about. The true thing to any man is the thing that must not be let alone but done. It is much easier to know what is true to do than what is true to think. But those who do the one will come to know the other--and none else, I believe." The major was silent, and sat looking very thoughtful. At last he rose. "Is there anything you want me to do in this sad affair, cousin Hester?" he said. "I want your help to find my brother." "Why should you want to find him? You cannot do him any good!" "Who can tell that? If Christ came to seek and save his lost, we ought to seek and save our lost." "Young men don't go wrong for the mere sake of going wrong: you may find him in such a position as will make it impossible for you to have anything to do with him." "You know that line of Spenser's.-- Entire affection hateth nicer hands'?" asked Hester. "No, I don't know it; and I don't know that I understand it now you tell it me," replied the major, just a little crossly, for he did not like poetry; it was one of his bugbear humbugs. "But one thing is plain: you must not expose yourself to what in such a search would be unavoidable." The care of men over some women would not seldom be ludicrous but for the sad suggested contrast of their carelessness over others. "Answer me one question, dear major Marvel," said Hester: "Which is in most danger from disease--the healthy or the sickly?" "That's a question for the doctor," he answered cautiously; "and I don't believe he knows anything about it either. What it has to do with the matter in hand I cannot think."