"Ef I jest had the blame things for a minute to slip on my eyes, why, I could find 'em—easy enough!" he ejaculated—desperation in his voice.
And then he proceeded to say a number of things that were lacking in moderation, and consequently very sinful—in an elder of the church.
The "bad words" spoken in the vacant house fell accusingly upon the speaker's ears, and they must have startled him, for he hastened to add: "I don't see where no sense o' jestice comes in, nohow, in allowin' a man on the very eve of doin' his Christian duty to lose his most important wherewithal!"
This plea was no doubt in mild extenuation of the explosive that had preceded it, and as he turned and drew himself forward by his elbows to compass a new section of the room, which, by-the-way, seemed suddenly expanded in size, he began to realize that the plea was in itself most sinful—even more so than the outburst, perhaps, being an implication of divine injustice.
A lump came into his throat, and as he proceeded laboriously along on his dry swim, he felt for a moment in danger of crying.
Of course this would never do, but there was just so much emotion within him, and it had begun to ferment.
Before he realized his excitement his arms were flying about wildly and he was shrieking in a frenzy.
"But I must have 'em! I must have 'em! I must, I say; O Lord, I must—I must have them spectacles! Lor-r-d, I have work to do—for Thee—an' I am eager to perform it. All I ask is five minutes' use o' my eyes, so thet I may pursue this search in patience—"
His voice broke in a sob.
And just now it was that his left hand, fumbling over the foot of the sewing-machine treadle, ran against a familiar bit of steel wire.