"I know it; you think it's a bad word; but Phil says Devil; and it's true. And besides, you forbid my going where the other boys go, and that maddens me and makes me swear, and the fellows laugh; and because I can't go, I do something worse."
"My poor Reuben, do you know where such badness will lead you?"
"Oh, yes, I know; I've heard it often enough; it'll lead to hell, I guess."
"Reuben! Reuben! what does this mean?"
"I can't help it, father. There's Phil and Gus Hapgood went chestnutting the other Saturday, and because you were afraid I shouldn't be back before sundown you kept me at home. I know I was ten times worse than if I'd been out chestnutting all night and half Sunday. I hate Sunday!"
"That, Reuben, is because you are wicked."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"I am glad, my son, that you see your sins and admit them."
"There's not much comfort in that," Reuben had said. "I'm none the better for it."
"It's the first step, my son, toward repentance."