"I wonder if I did right," he was thinking. "It is a hard
thing to talk that way to a human being, and yet it seems
to be the only thing to do. Oh, what it would mean for
God's work if all these rich farmers were saved from
their insatiable greed."

He turned into Dr. Clay's office.

"Oh, Clay!" he burst out when he had answered the young
man's friendly greeting, "it is an awful thing to lay
open a mean man's meanness, and tell him the plain truth
about himself."

"It is, indeed," the young doctor answered, "but perhaps
it is heroic treatment your man needed, for I would infer
that you have been reading the law to someone. Who was
it?"

"Sam Motherwell," the minister answered.

"Well, you had a good subject," the doctor said gravely.
"For aggravated greed, and fatty degeneration of the
conscience, Mr. Motherwell is certainly a wonder. When
that poor English girl took the fever out here, it was
hard to convince Sam that she was really sick. 'Look at
them red cheeks of hers,' he said to me, 'and her ears
ain't cold, and her eyes is bright as ever. She's just
lookin' for a rest, I think, if you wuz to ask me.'"