The minister rose, leaving his supper untouched, put on his overcoat, not one remonstrating word coming from his family, and went out.
Pastor Graves made his way up the town through the main street to Bates' drug-store, his hunger having died in his anger and amazement.
He was positive that he could have brought his children to terms, had not their mother taken sides with them. His thoughts went back to the early days of his married life when nothing had disturbed their peace; the children obeyed, and Mrs. Graves thought her husband's word the essence of all law.
He turned into the drug-store in the middle of the block. Here met, nearly every evening, the head ones of his flock for a little while to talk over religion and politics. Outsiders called it the "Amen Corner" of Ithaca.
"Ah," exclaimed the druggist, "you're early, Graves. Must have had your supper at the going down of the sun."
Graves coughed his embarrassment and sat down.
"Feeling sick, Elias?"
The druggist opened the door for a child to pass out.
"No, not ill, only disgusted with the world in general."
"Skinner's girl coming to the court went against your notions, eh?"