"Working foolishly rather. I thought I had broken down, but sleep and your kindness have so revived me that I scarcely know myself. Are you accustomed to take in tramps from New York?"
"That depends somewhat upon the tramps. I think the right leadings are given us."
"If good leadings constitute a Friend, I am one to-day, for I have been led to your home." "Now I'm moved to preach a little," said Mr. Yocomb. "Richard Morton, does thee realize the sin and folly of overwork? If thee works for thyself it is folly. If thee toils for the good of the world, and art able to do the world any good, it is sin; if there are loved ones dependent on thee, thee may do them a wrong for which there is no remedy. Thee looks to me like a man who has been over-doing."
"Unfortunately there is no one dependent on me, and I fear I have not had the world's welfare very greatly at heart. I have learned that I was becoming my own worst enemy, and so must plead guilty of folly."
"Well, thee doesn't look as if thee had sinned away thy day of grace yet. If thee'll take roast-beef and common-sense as thy medicine, thee'll see my years and vigor."
"Richard Morton," said his wife, with a gentle gravity, "never let any one make thee believe that thee has sinned away thy day of grace."
"Mother, thee's very weak on the 'terrors of the law.' Thee's always for coaxing the transgressors out of the broad road. Thee's latitudinarian; now!"
"And thee's a little queer, father."
"Emily Warren, am I queer?"
"You are very sound and sensible in your advice to Mr. Morton," she replied. "One may very easily sin against life and health beyond the point of remedy. I should judge from Mr. Morton's words that he is in danger."