"But if it's to do them good?"
"But ought we to do good to people against their wills?"
"Why, sure! What you thinking of? Still if you don't want to...."
The tone hurt him. "Oh, but I will."
"Say I will, father. Why don't you call me that? Don't I call you son?"
He braced himself to an effort. "All right, father; I will."
"Good! Then here's the powder." He drew one from the packet. "Don't let none of it fall. You'll steal into the kitchen this afternoon—she generally lays down after she's washed the dinner things—and just empty the paper into the little brown teapot she always makes her tea in. Then burn the paper in the stove—there's sure to be a fire on—so that she won't find nothing lying around to make her suspicious. You understand, don't you?"
He said he understood, though in his heart of hearts he wished that he hadn't been charged with the duty.