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Updated: June 27, 2025
I'm sorry that Brenton took it badly, Whittenden. I didn't think it of him; you have counted so much to him, for years." Whittenden spoke a little sadly. "He thinks that he has outgrown me, Reed; therefore he won't feel the hurt of it, one half so much." Opdyke looked up sharply, a world of comprehension in his brave brown eyes. "But it has hurt you, Whittenden." "Yes," his companion confessed.
That's all, Ramsdell. Send it off, to-night." Next afternoon, Whittenden came, to all seeming the same unspoiled, curly-headed youngster who had helped to open Brenton's eyes, so long ago, to the real good there was in life, despite the melancholy teachings of his early Calvinism. The professor was busy with a class, Mrs.
Give a man a dozen years or so of the mental starvation of a New England wilderness, and then all at once fill him chock full of new ideas, and he gets a pain within him, just as painful a pain as if it were in his tummy, not his mind. In time, it leads to chronic indigestion. That's what Brenton's got." "Yes; but that is cause, not extenuating circumstance," Whittenden objected.
Still, granted the solitary dozen: force isn't a thing one measures by the acre, Reed. It is deep, not wide. Therefore your dozen are enough." "But why the dozen? They come to play with me. I don't do anything to them." "No?" Whittenden spoke with his eyes on his cigar. "Ask Ramsdell. Ask Brenton. Ask " he turned his eyes on Opdyke; "Miss Keltridge."
Naturally, being constituted as he is, Brenton, once he had cut his wisdom teeth, turned balky, refused to see why he should love a God who behaved like a bad-tempered child that spites the toy he has broken and beats the wall where he has bumped his head. Meanwhile " "Do I " Opdyke was beginning. Whittenden waved aside the interruption. "No; you don't come in yet. Be patient.
And now Whittenden flung back his head, and his clear eyes glowed with his belief. Never more a king than now, as he lay there, quiet, but very potent, establishing his throne above the level of the powers of darkness who murmured threateningly about his feet! And, meanwhile, "Queer thing about our bodies," Reed was saying; "queer and almost a little cruel.
"Then bring me a book of synonyms. Anyhow, I'll be it, before I'll take the responsibility of that Brenton woman's vagaries. Ask Olive." "I don't need to," Whittenden remarked at his cigar. "I married them. Likewise, I have seen Brenton, this very day. After collating those two references, I don't need Miss Keltridge for a commentary. As for Brenton " Opdyke interrupted.
Whittenden of Saint Luke's told me. He always claimed he was the man who did the deed." "You knew Whittenden?" For the moment, Brenton forgot all other matters in the question. "Rather! And it's not the sort of privilege one is likely to forget. He is 'the whole state of Christ's Church Militant' in his own stubby, curly-headed little person." Reed's voice grew resonant with every syllable.
"This isn't going to do for you, Whittenden," he said, with decision. "If you sit about like this, I'll have you tucked up beside me, within the week. You've got to have some exercise. I'll set Ramsdell to telephoning on your behalf, if you will call him. Yes, I can telephone; but it's not too easy, so I generally pass the job on to him.
At first sight, Whittenden had been delighted at the change in his companion; at a second, the delight increased, and the wonder mingled with it.
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