I couldn’t help thinking that I ought to intervene.
“He came in on my account, sir,” I said, getting up and going forward to the desk. “He’s trying to keep me straight.”
“That is, he’ll keep straight if you do?”
“That’s it, sir, exactly.”
He continued to write, speaking without looking up at us.
“Then I can’t think of anything more to your credit, Mr.—Mr. Lovey—is that it?”
“I don’t want no mister, Your Honor—not now I don’t.”
“When a man takes so fine a stand as you’re taking toward this young fellow he’s a mister to me. I respect him and treat him with respect. I see that we’re meant to understand each other and get on together.”
Poor Lovey had nothing to say. The prospect of temptation and fall being removed by his own heroism rendered him both proud and miserable at once.