"My son!"
"Pap, I axes the question on the square. Ain't thet what you preached?"
"That was the text."
"It ain't fair to preach one text in the meetin'-house and act another text at home."
"Joshua!"
"Let's hev the mercy text to-night. Pap, sister's home ag'in. Let's act the fergivin' text out."
Joshua stepped aside and the minister, touched in spite of himself, glanced at his daughter, a softened glance, that spoke of affection, but he made no movement. Then the girl slowly rose and turned toward the door, still keeping her eyes on her father's face. She edged backward step by step toward the door by which she had entered. Her hand grasped the latch; the door moved on its hinges.
"Stop, sister," said Joshua. "Pap, ef sister opens thet door I go with her, and then you will sit alone in this room ferever. You will be the last Warwick of the Knob."
Warwick, with all his coldness and strength, could not stand the ordeal.
"Come back, my children," he said. "It is also written, 'I will be merciful to their unrighteousness, and their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more.'" And then, as in former times, Mary's head rested on her father's knee.