“But is not an honest man to be trusted?”
“Why—why—yes, sir.”
“There! don’t you see, now?”
“See what?” asked the disconcerted barber, rather vexedly.
“Why, you stand self-contradicted, barber; don’t you?”
“No,” doggedly.
“Barber,” gravely, and after a pause of concern, “the enemies of our race have a saying that insincerity is the most universal and inveterate vice of man—the lasting bar to real amelioration, whether of individuals or of the world. Don’t you now, barber, by your stubbornness on this occasion, give color to such a calumny?”
“Hity-tity!” cried the barber, losing patience, and with it respect; “stubbornness?” Then clattering round the brush in the cup, “Will you be shaved, or won’t you?”
“Barber, I will be shaved, and with pleasure; but, pray, don’t raise your voice that way. Why, now, if you go through life gritting your teeth in that fashion, what a comfortless time you will have.”
“I take as much comfort in this world as you or any other man,” cried the barber, whom the other’s sweetness of temper seemed rather to exasperate than soothe.