The man blinked as though the sun were in his eyes. He had not yet regained the mastery of himself.
"Yes," he said.
"And why do you come?" said Abner.
A flush of scarlet spread over the man's white face.
"And do you ask me that?" he cried. "It is the tomb of my father!"
"Your father," said Abner, "was an upright man. He lived in the fear of God. I respect his tomb."
"I thank you, Abner," replied the man. "I honor my father's grave."
"You honor it late," said Abner.
"Late!" echoed Smallwood.
"Late," said Abner.
The man spread out his hands with a gesture of resignation.
"You mean that my misfortune has dishonored my father?"
"No," said Abner, "that is not what I mean; by a misfortune no man can be dishonored—neither his father nor his father's father."
"What is it you mean, then?" said the man
"Smallwood," said Abner, "is it not before you; where you in your ownership allowed the fence around this grave to rot I have rebuilt it, and where you allowed the weeds to grow up I have cut them down?"
It was the truth. Abner had put up a fence and
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