"
"'Tis mean, awful mean," Dan replied, as the parson paused, and flicked
the snow with his whip. "But maybe he's sorry, now, that he's hurt."
"Maybe he is, Dan. But it's a mean thing to give the best of life to
Satan, and to give the dregs, the last few days, when the body is too weak
to do anything, to the Lord. And yet I find that is so often done, and I'm
afraid it's the case now."
When they reached Fraser's house they found great excitement within. Men
and women were moving about the kitchen and sitting-room trying to help,
and yet always getting into one another's way. Midnight was taken to the
barn, Dan was led into the kitchen to get warm, while the parson went at
once to the room where Tim was lying.
Dan shrank back in a corner, for he felt much abashed at the sight of so
many strangers. He wanted to be alone--to think about what the parson had
said coming along the road. And so Fraser was a sponger, and a sucker too,
getting so many good things and giving nothing back. It was mean, and yet
what was he himself but a sponger? What was he doing for Nellie and Parson
John for what they were doing for him? They gave him a comfortable home,
fed, clothed, and taught him, and he was doing nothing to pay them back.
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