"I'm a new form o' punishment," said Darrel, soberly.
"But they all enjoy it," she answered.
"I'm not so rough as the ministers. They use fire an' the fume o'
sulphur."
"And the men go to sleep."
"Ay, the cruel master makes a thick hide," said Darrel, quickly.
"So Nature puts her hand between the whip an' the horse, an' sleep
between cruelty an' the congregation."
"Nature is kind," was the remark of the warden.
"An' shows the intent o' the Almighty," said Darrel. "There are
two words. In them are all the sermons."
"And what are they?" the woman asked.
"Fear," Darrel answered thoughtfully; "that is one o' them." He
paused to sip his tea.
"And the other is?"
"Love."
There was half a moment of silence.
"Here's Life to Love an' Death to Fear," the tinker added, draining
his cup. "Ay, madam, fill again--'tis memorable tea."
The woman refilled his cup.
"Many a time I've sat at meat an' thought, O that mine enemy could
taste thy tea! But this, dear lady, this beverage is for a friend."
So the dinner went on, others talking only to encourage the tongue
of Darrel. Trove, well as he knew the old man, had been surprised
by his fortitude.
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