Jim colored.
“Very well, their taxes are paid for this year; let them use that money. They will not suffer, except in their feelings, and that is where they ought to suffer. Man, you would spoil all the work of the Lord by your selfish tenderness toward sinners!”
“They aren't sinners.”
“Yes, they are—spiritual sinners, the worst kind in the world. Now—”
“You don't mean for me to go now?”
“Yes, I do—now. If you don't go now you never will. Then, afterward, I want you to go home and sit in your best parlor and smoke, and have all your cats in there, too.”
Jim gasped. “But, Edward! Mis' Adkins—”
“I don't care about Mrs. Adkins. She isn't as bad as the rest, but she needs her little lesson, too.”
“Edward, the way that poor woman works to keep the house nice—and she don't like the smell of tobacco smoke.”
“Never mind whether she likes it or not. You smoke.”