turned over several pages.

"Here is something better than Virgil," she said, "and I am going to
read from it now. It will do both of us much good."

"Is that the Bible, Miss?"

"It is, and from all appearances you have not read much from it of
late. It is very dusty."

"That's true, and I don't want to hear it now. I don't like it."

"Neither do we like medicine, Mr. Timon. But when we are sick we take
it whether we like it or not. It is for our good."

"So you think I am sick?"

"There is something wrong with you, I am sure, more serious than your
injured side. This is the only thing, I believe, that will help you."

"But I won't listen."

"You don't have to. I am going to read it, though. You liked the
verse of the hymn I sang, didn't you?"

"Oh, that was different. It was your voice I liked, but not the
sentimental mush of words."

"Well, then, you can listen to my voice now if you want to. But I
guess you will listen to the words, too, unless you are different from