“You told me that once before. And it has been my ambition to show you that you were wrong.”
“Bah! I know human nature too well to believe any such rot.”
“But you always stood up in Sunday-school, sir, and told us about Christian charity and meekness and forgiveness. You believe in all that, don’t you?”
“I have no confidence in you—not now!”
“Not when I’m trying to prove to you that I’m one of those practical Christians?”
“Do not insult me with any more of that balderdash, sir!”
I had just as much of nasty temper as he had, and mine began to flare up in me. I knew that my motives were all right, though I did not dare to reveal them to him—and my innocence made me the more angry.
“You would have made a big hit with the good Samaritan when he came along and offered his help after you had fallen among thieves,” I snapped. “I reckon you have never practised any of the charity you have preached. I have never preached, but I am practising! You don’t seem to recognize your own religion when you see it acted out instead of being merely printed in a book!”
“You’re a renegade, convicting yourself out of your own mouth!”
Oh, what was the use! I walked off a little way. Then I turned on him.