man a free will, or has the illusion of time and space wound him up in
its predestined tangle, to act as he must and be what he is without
appeal or resistance, or even hope of a pardon?

Doctor Nesbit and Amos Adams were trying to solve the mystery of human
destiny at the gate of the Adams' home the day after the funeral. Amos
had his foot on the hub of the Doctor's buggy and was saying: "But
Doctor, can't you see that it isn't all material? Suppose that every
atom of the universe does affect every other atom, and that the
accumulated effect of past action holds the stars in their courses, and
that if we knew what all the past was we should be able to foretell the
future, because it would be mathematically calculable--what of it? That
does not prove your case, man! Can't you see that in free will another
element enters--the spiritual, if you please, that is not amenable to
atomic action past or present?" Amos smiled deprecatingly and added
sadly: "Got that last night from Schopenhauer." The Doctor, clearly
unawed by Schopenhauer, broke out: "Aye, there I have you, Amos. Isn't
the brain matter, and doesn't the brain secrete consciousness?"

"Does this buggy secrete distance, Jim? Go 'long with you, man." Before
the Doctor could reply, around the corner of the house, bringing little
Kenyon Adams in his best bib and tucker, came the lofty figure of Mrs.
Nesbit. With her came her daughter. Then up spoke Mrs. Bedelia
Satterthwaite Nesbit of the Maryland Satterthwaites, "Look here, Amos
Adams--I don't care what you say, I'm going to take this baby." There
was strong emphasis upon the "I'm," and she went on: "You can have him
every night, and Grant can take care of the child after supper when he
comes home from work. But every morning at eight I'm going to have this
baby." Further emphasis upon the first person. "I'm not going to see a
child turned over to a hired girl all day and me with a big house and no
baby and a daughter about to marry and leave me and a houseful of help,
if I needed it, which thank Heavens I don't." She put her lips together
sternly, and, "Not a word, Amos Adams," she said to Amos, who had not
opened his mouth. "Not another word. Kenyon will be home at six
o'clock."

She put the child into the Doctor's submissive arms--helped her daughter
into the buggy, and when she had climbed in herself, she glared
triumphantly over her glasses and above her Roman nose, as she said:
"Now, Amos--have some sense. Do