The doctor had driven his victim into a corner. To yield a point in family discipline or to pay the price of the property he had destroyed—one of the two he must do. It was a most untoward predicament for Jacob Getz.
"You had no right to lend that there Book to Tillie, Doc, and I ain't payin' you a cent fur it!" he maintained.
"I jus' mean, Jake, I 'll make out my bill easy or stiff accordin' to the way you pass your promise."
"If my word was no more better 'n yours, Doe, my passin' my promise wouldn't help much!"
"That's all right, Jake. I don't set up to be religious and moral. I ain't sayed my prayers since I am old enough a'ready to know how likely I was, still, to kneel on a tack!"
"It's no wonder you was put off of church!" was the biting retort.
"Hold up there, Jake. I wasn't put off. I WENT off. I took myself off of church before the brethren had a chanct to PUT me off."
"Sammy!" Mr. Getz suddenly and sharply admonished his little son, who was sharpening his slate-pencil on the window-sill with a table-knife, "you stop right aways sharpenin' that pencil! You dassent sharpen your slate-pencils, do you hear? It wastes 'em so!"
Sammy hastily laid down the knife and thrust the pencil into his pocket.
Mr. Getz turned again to the doctor and inquired irritably, "What is it to YOU if I teach my own child to mind me or not, I'd like to know?"