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Updated: May 16, 2025
But they are madder at Henry Bostic than at anyone else. And really, he's the only one that's guilty. But I don't blame him much. The McElwins have always made fun of him." "What are you going to do, Lyman?" the old man asked. "Nothing. I am satisfied." "Don't say that, Mr. Lyman," the old woman pleaded. "Don't distress a proud family."
"Madam," Lyman replied, "I am ready to kneel and beg the pardon of a heart in distress, but senseless pride doesn't appeal to me. I can compare families with the McElwins when it comes to that, and putting my judgment aside, I can be as proud as they are. They have money, but that is all, and they would be but paupers compared with the really rich.
"Don't mention that, Mr. Lyman," he said, hoisting his umbrella. "That was not wholly free from a spirit of revenge, and I have prayed for pardon. My mother has called on the McElwins to beseech them to forgive me, and I went to the bank today on the same errand." "Wait a moment," said Lyman, as the young minister moved toward the steps leading to the dooryard. "Did the banker forgive you?"
Lyman was reminded of one Of William Wirt's stories "The Blind Preacher" the man who in a ruinous old house raised his hand and cried: "Socrates died like a philosopher, but Jesus Christ like a God." There was to be another sermon in the afternoon, by an old man who plowed for a living and who preached without pay, and Lyman caught himself wondering whether the McElwins would remain to hear him.
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