His Wife.
Nay, nay; speak not so, my old comrade, but, rather, let us go upon our knees and say a prayer to God.
The Man.
Methinks it would be difficult for my old knees to bend now.
His Wife.
Yet try to bend them, dearest one. It is our duty.
The Man.
Think you, then, that God would heed one who has never yet troubled His ear with prayer or praise? Do you pray: you are the mother.
His Wife.
Nay, but do you also: you are the father. If a father will not pray for his son, who else shall do it—to whom else shall it be left? And would my prayer alone avail as much as yours and mine together?