But I would rather not record sacred words which, whatever they might mean in Mr. Simon's use of them, mean so little in relation to my story.
Thomas, however, was not yet so much of a hypocrite as his training had hitherto tended to make him, and again he sat silent for a few moments, during which his mother and her friend sat silent likewise, giving him time for reflection. Then he spoke, anxious to get rid of the whole unpleasant affair.
"I will promise to think of what you have said, Mr. Simon."
"Yes, Thomas, but how will you think of it?" said his mother.
Mr. Simon, however, glad to have gained so much of a concession, spoke more genially. He would not drive the matter further at present.
"Do, dear friend; and may He guide you into the truth. Remember, Thomas, the world and the things of this world are passing away. You are a child no longer, and are herewith called upon to take your part, for God or against him—"
And so on, till Thomas grew weary as well as annoyed.
"Will you tell me what fault you have to find with me?" he said at last. "I am regular at the Sunday-school, I am sure."
"Yes, that we must allow, and heartily," answered Mr. Simon, turning to Mrs. Worboise as if to give her the initiative, for he thought her rather hard with her son; "only I would just suggest to you, Mr. Thomas—I don't ask you the question, but I would have you ask yourself—whether your energy is equal to what it has been? Take care lest, while you teach others, you yourself should be a castaway. Remember that nothing but faith in the merits—"
Thus started again, he went on, till Thomas was forced loose from all sympathy with things so unmercifully driven upon him, and vowed in his heart that he would stand it no longer.