"Is it true old Sparrow be gone to the workhouse?" asked Melinda, who loved facts concerning fellow creatures and reduced conversation to personalities when she could.
"It is true," answered Chaffe.
"A sparrow as fell to the ground uncounted then," said Enoch, but the carpenter denied it.
"You mustn't think that. What be the workhouse but a sign of the everlasting mercy put in our minds by a higher power?"
"A bleak fashion of mercy, Mr. Chaffe," answered Melinda.
"Many never know happiness till they get there. Human life have always been a hand to mouth business for most of us. It's meant to be, and I don't believe myself that Providence likes us to look much farther than the points of our noses."
"The great man is him that can, however," argued Mr. Withycombe. "Him as looks a few yards deeper into the mirk of the future than we can soon rises to be famous. He knows there can be no security against nature; but, outside that, he sees there did ought to be security between man and man, since we are reasoning creatures. And he thinks reasoning creatures did ought to be reasonable and he tries to help 'em to be—man and man and nation and nation."
"Good, Enoch. If everybody would fight to be friends as hard as they fight for other things, peace would set in, no doubt."
"To do it, you must come with clean hands, Arthur; but all the nations' hands are dirty. They look back into each other's histories and can't trust. Man's a brigand by nature. It's the sporting instinct as much as anything, and the best sporting nations are the best fighting nations. That's why we're up top."
"Are we?"