about it; and he sits there calm and strong, something like a tree
himself; and every once in a while somebody comes along--a boy, you
know,--and the boy talks to him all about himself, just as we imagine
we'd like to with our fathers, if they weren't so busy, or our teachers,
if they didn't depend so much upon books, or our ministers, if we thought
they would really understand,--and the old man doesn't say much maybe, but
the boy goes away much stronger and happier....

THE MAN

Yes, yes, I understand. The Old Testament.... They _did_ get hold of
things, didn't they?

THE BOY

What I can't understand is how nowadays people seem more grown up and
competent than those men were, in a way, and we do such wonderful
things--skyscrapers and aeroplanes--and yet we aren't half so wonderful as
they were in the Old Testament with their jugs and their wooden plows. I
mean, we aren't near so big as the things we do, while those old fellows
were so much bigger. We smile at them, but if some day one of our machines
fell over on us what would we do about it?

THE MAN

I wonder.

THE BOY

I went through a big factory just last week. One of my friends' father is