'Liphalet, he ought to know how nice people talked about his
sermon. I tell you that was my kind o' doctern. It 's wonderful how a
child will learn."

Notwithstanding his belief that his young friend wanted to be left
alone, the old man slipped into his room later on with a cup of tea. The
young man sat before the table, his head buried in his hands. Eliphalet
set the cup and saucer down and turned to go, but he paused at the door
and said, "Thank the Lord fur the way you give it to 'em, Freddie. It
was worth a dollar." He would have hurried out, but the young man sprang
up and seized his hand, exclaiming, "It was wrong, Uncle 'Liph, it was
wrong of me. I saw them sitting about me like jackals waiting for their
prey; I remembered all that I had been and all that I was; I knew what
they were thinking, and I was angry, angry. God forgive me! That sermon
was preached from as hot a heart as ever did murder."

The old man stroked the young one's hair as he would a child's. "Never
mind," he said. "It don't matter what you felt. That 's between you an'
Him. I only know what you said, an' that 's all I care about. Did n't
you speak about the Lord a-whippin' the money-changers from the temple?
Ain't lots o' them worse than the money-changers? Was n't Christ divine?
Ain't you human? Would a body expect you to feel less'n He did? Huh!
jest don't you worry; remember that you did n't hit a head that was n't
in striking distance." And the old man pressed the boy back into his
chair and slipped out.

CHAPTER XII

Beside an absolute refusal again to supply, Brent made no sign of the
rebellion which was in him, and his second year slipped quickly and
uneventfully away. He went to and from his duties silent and
self-contained. He did not confide in Mr. Hodges, because his guardian
seemed to grow more and more jealous of their friendship. He could not
confide in Elizabeth, on account of a growing conviction that she did
not fully sympathise with him. But his real feelings may be gathered
from a letter which he wrote to his friend Taylor some two months after
the events recorded in the last chapter.

"MY DEAR TAYLOR," it ran, "time and again I have told myself that I
would write you a line, keeping you in touch, as I promised, with
my progress. Many times have I thought of our last talk together,
and still I think as I thought then--that, in spite of all your
disadvantages and your defeats, you have t