“But you didn’t mean that,” I said. “You meant a reed before the wind.”
“Well, that’s what he is,” said my father. “That’s just what I say. That’s why he implored me not to make a denunciation.”
“But of course you will,” I said.
My father nodded.
“Immediately after the collection,” said my father, “and before the blessing.”
I looked at the clock. It was a quarter past ten. In an hour and three-quarters the sabbath would be upon us. There was not much time. I glanced at my father anxiously.
“How far have you got?” I asked.
“About half-way,” he said.
Then he rose to his feet again and crossed to the harmonium.
“Ring for the cocoa,” he said. I sprang to the bell. But just as I reached it my mother entered, bearing two cups of the sustaining fluid. Signalling to her to withdraw, he lifted one of the cups and drained its contents at a single gulp.