ng bluntness.

"Not for his weaknesses, Dolph. The man is plucky and sincere. For the
sake of the things that he believes are true, he will give up, has
given up, more than most of us will ever gain."

Dolph plunged his fists into his pockets.

"Hang it all, Olive! Do be concrete," he bade her.

"I will, if I can," she said fearlessly. "It's only that the things
themselves aren't too concrete."

"No." Dolph spoke incisively. "I should say they aren't. Olive look
here. Don't get your values muddled, at this stage of the game."

Despite their friendship, she looked up at him haughtily.

"What do you mean, Dolph?"

For a minute, he stared down at her, smiling slightly and with a look
in his eyes that nullified the frank brutality of his next words.

"Don't get mawkish over Brenton, Olive, just because he is a pitiful
weakling who, in spite of all his good intentions, has made a
consistent mess of everything he's tried to do. Because a man is weak,
he isn't necessarily more lovable. Because he has an incurable disease,
he isn't, of necessity, any more a subject for idolatry. No; I don't
mean that to lap over on to Opdyke, either. If ever a man was healthy,
Opdyke is that man. But Brenton isn't. His logic and his conscience
both are full of bacteria, bad little bacteria that swim around and
mess things. He may pull out of it, of course, and make something in
the end. Then, you can set him up on a pedestal and stick flowers in
his fair hair. For the present, though, do keep sane about him, and
deplore him, not admire."

"Aren't you a little hard on him, Dolph?" Olive asked steadily,
although her cheeks were burning with the truth of his implied accusal.

"No; I'm not."

There came a short pause. Then,--

"I am very sorry for him," Olive said a little obstinately.

"Be sorry, then. Be just as sorry as you can. But, for heaven's sake,
don't tell him so," Dolph retorted rather mercilessly. "If he's ever
going to amount to anything, he must be brought up with a round turn,
not coddled and treated as a victim of untoward circumstance. If he
behaves like this over a growing pain in his theology, what do you
suppose he'd do in Opdyke's place?"

Olive struggled to regain her hauteur.

"The cases aren't parallel, Dolph," she said. "One is a physical
matter; the other concerns the spirit."

Once again Dolph paused and looked down at her intently. Then,--

"Which is which?" he queried. "No; don't get testy, Olive.