HON. B. P. DIVINS
care whether you do er not, uh? Not botherin' you any."
"My religion's my own concern."
"I guess that's right." He nodded. "I guess that's right."
The boat swung 'round on its anchor-line with the shifting wind. Matt drew in his hook to see if it had caught on any of the brown lily-pads that had not yet lifted themselves to the surface of the water. "No perch comin', I guess."
The reference to perch was too much for Ben's irritability. He broke out: "I tell you what's the matter with you—you're lazy. You'd sooner sit in a boat all day waiting for a five-cent fish than go out in the field and earn an honest dollar. That's why you're living the way you are. It's shiftlessness. It's laziness—sheer, damn laziness!"
Matt had put the butt of his pole under his leg and taken out his pipe. "Well, Ben," he said, "you've worked hard."
"You're damn right I have."
"You've worked hard, an' your two boys have gone to the devil with drink—"
"That's none of my doing."
"An' your wife's trying to buy fergiveness fer you with the money you sold yer soul fer. An' you're just about as happy as if you'd gone to hell already. You've worked hard, an' you've got what you've been workin' fer. Well, you can have it. I don't want it."
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