"I will ask, sir, that you will not swear in my presence."
Mr. Wright coughed. "I will endeavor to respect the cloth," he said stiffly.
"If you will respect yourself, it will be sufficient. As for Sam, if there's anything wrong, his father ought to know it."
"Well then, tell his—mother, that there is something wrong."
"What?"
Mr. Wright got up, and clasping his hands behind him, shuffled about the room. Instantly one of the canaries began to sing. "Stop that!" he said. The bird quivered with shrill music. "Stop! You! … There's no such thing as conversation, with these creatures about," he added in a proud aside. "Did you ever hear such singing?"
Dr. Lavendar, unable to make himself heard, shook his head.
"If you don't stop," said Mr. Wright, "I'll wring your neck!" and as the bird continued, he opened the door. "Simmons! You freckled nigger! Bring me the apron." Then he stamped, and cursed the slowness of niggers. Simmons, however, came as fast as his old legs could carry him, bearing a blue gingham apron. This, thrown over the cage, produced silence.
"There! Now, perhaps, you'll hold your tongue? … Lavendar, I prefer not to say what is wrong. Merely tell Sam's—mother, that he had better go. If she is too mean to provide the money, I will."
"Sam's father is not too mean to do anything for Sam's welfare; but of course, a general accusation is not convincing; should not be convincing—Why!" said Dr. Lavendar, interrupting himself, "bless my heart! I believe you mean that the boy is making sheep's-eyes at your neighbor here on the hill? Is that it? Why, Benjamin, the best way to cure that is to pay no attention to it."