"'Deed you're not, but what are you? Why do you press me so? Like a judge?" "Not to judge you, certainly. You've seen something in Shawn to disturb you. I wish to know what it was, because--because I'm frightened, Ben; because what touches thee touches me...." "Something at that--house. He spoke quite cruelly to the women there, poor sluts, as if he hated them, and for no cause. I don't know--I know you don't like him, Ru, I can feel it. Let's not speak of him." "Very well. Let's go on. Pontifex awaits, I'm sure. Let's walk on--you know, decently, like Christian worthies debating how best to diddle a neighbor over a line fence and yet remain in a state of grace." "Pagan Athenian!" "Of course." "I recall a time, when thou wast--" "The boy's dead. Poor snotnose, he died near Springfield in the Massachusetts, in the reign of Queen Anne. Tell me something, Ben, and don't be angry--remember how Mother used to call me Puppy?" "Of course. And Father called thee Sir Inquiry." "Ha? So he did...." "Why should I be angry?" "She called me that, I think, because I am--I am over-demonstrative, heart on my sleeve and can't help it, Ben, it's my way, my _way_. I only meant to ask--does it trouble thee, that I like to put my arm over thy shoulder, sometimes kiss thy cheek? Because----" "Now why in the world should it trouble me? A'n't thou my own brother, Athenian?" "I am." "And didn't I carry thee down the stairs at Deerfield, a small boy in a great daze at the burning and thinking it his own fault for a failure to pray--remember that?" "He doth ask me, whether I remember it." "I only meant, thy notion of being at fault for failing to pray." _But it may be mine own fault that he's an even greater infidel than I--what did I ever do but encourage his doubting, when perhaps--when--where is the way where light dwelleth?_ "I know, Ben. Yes, I remember it." _And if there be no Spice Islands, where shall I go?_ _Chapter Six_ On Saturday began a long lisping April rain. Mr. Hibbs pointed out that anyhow the boys' half-holiday had been used up on the Friday forenoon, and although this happened because of disaster, in logic that made no difference: the spring and summer would be all too short if Ben and Reuben were to be ready for Harvard in September. Mr. Hibbs said too that man born of woman is of few days and full of trouble; in other words they'd better quit the commotion and go to work. Mr. Kenny spent all of that day in Boston, returning late and weary in a twitching mood. It was one of the evenings, more frequent of late, when he insisted that no one but Ben or Reuben understood how to lift the boot off his gouty foot. Ben did that, as Kate stood by in tears, and from shadow at the side of the fireplace Reuben watched the old man with the bemused intentness of one who has only recently discovered that the study of human beings may begin at home. Reuben Cory had hardly spoken all day, except as the lessons required it of him....