weak creature. What is to become of the child?"

There was no reason for concealing from one of my colleagues
the benevolent decision, on the part of the good Minister,
of which I had been a witness. The Doctor listened to me with
the first appearance of downright astonishment that I had ever
observed in his face. When I had done, he made an extraordinary
reply:

"Governor, I retract what I said of the parson just now. He
is one of the boldest men that ever stepped into a pulpit."

Was the doctor in earnest? Strongly in earnest; there could be
no doubt of it. Before I could ask him what he meant, he was
called away to a patient on the other side of the prison. When
we parted at the door of my room, I made it a request that my
medical friend would return to me and explain what he had just
said.

"Considering that you are the governor of a prison," he replied,
"you are a singularly rash man. If I come back, how do you know
I shall not bore you?"

"My rashness runs the risk of that," I rejoined.

"Tell me something, before I allow you to run your risk,"
he said. "Are you one of those people who think that the tempers
of children are formed by the accidental influences which happen
to be about them? Or do you agree with me that the tempers of
children are inherited from their parents?"