Jim turned pale. His child-like face looked suddenly old with his mental effort to grasp the other's meaning. In fact, he was a child—one of the little ones of the world—although he had lived the span of a man's life. Now one of the hardest problems of the elders of the world was presented to him. “You mean—” he said, faintly.
“I mean, Jim, that for the sake of other people, if not for your own sake, you ought to stop being a door-mat and be a man in this world of men.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to go straight to those nieces of yours and tell them the truth. You know what your wrongs are as well as I do. You know what those two women are as well as I do. They keep the letter of the Ten Commandments—that is right. They attend my church—that is right. They scour the outside of the platter until it is bright enough to blind those people who don't understand them; but inwardly they are petty, ravening wolves of greed and ingratitude. Go and tell them; they don't know themselves. Show them what they are. It is your Christian duty.”
“You don't mean for me to stop doing for them?”
“I certainly do mean just that—for a while, anyway.”
“They can't possibly get along, Edward; they will suffer.”
“They have a little money, haven't they?”
“Only a little in savings-bank. The interest pays their taxes.”
“And you gave them that?”