ey're sayin'
ye're the laziest fella in Bear Valley."

Hiram laughed mirthlessly. "There's nothin' new in that, Uncle
Sebastian. They've said the same since paw died. I reckon I am,
maybe."

"Hiram," patiently persisted the old man, "I didn't walk 'way up here
to listen to such talk. I tell ye, ye're playin' insincere, Hiram.
Down in yer heart ye know as well as anythin' it makes ye hot to be
talked about an' called th' laziest man in Bear Valley. I'd druther
see ye hoppin' mad ner takin' it that a way.

"Now, Hiram, listen to me: I've known ye sence ye was knee-high to a
duck, ain't I? Yer paw an' me was thicker ner molasses. Yer paw would
'a' made a brilliant man, Hiram, if he'd 'a' had th' chanct. You've
inherited yer paw's brains.

"When ye was a kid ye was a little devil, I'll admit. Still, givin'
myself credit fer a set o' brains a leetle above th' average o' Bear
Valley, I made allowances. Ye was mean because yer head was full o'
ideas; an' in Bear Valley they's so blamed little to use them ideas on
that ye jest naturally had to turn to meanness. Ye wasn't really bad;
ye was jest alive. All yer life ye been hankerin' fer sumpin that Bear
Valley couldn't give, but ye didn't even know what 'twas ye was
hankerin' fer. How could ye? A man's gotta taste olives before he c'n
tell if he likes 'em, ain't he? Yer paw taught ye to read." Uncle
Sebastian glanced once more, half pityingly, half resentfully, at the
backless magazines. "Readin's put notions into yer head an' set ye to
hankerin'.

"Then as ye grew up th' Valley folks begun to shun ye, didn't they?" he
continued. "They called ye queer. Then when yer paw died they dropped
ye altogether. It hurt ye, an' ye jest drew aloof an' went to shakes.

"D'ye know, Hiram, sometimes I find myself not blamin' ye like I
oughta. They called ye no good before ye really was so, an'
practically driv ye to it. Then ye was too proud to brace up an' give
'em th' satisfaction o' thinkin' their treatment o' ye had made ye turn
over a new leaf. If they'd gone on treatin' ye decent ye'd likely come
out all right o' yer own hook. Hiram, pride's put a heap o' men in th'
penitentiary. Pride's stubborn, Hiram. But layin' aside th' root o'
th' trouble, an' lookin' at th' matter through _their_ eyes, it's
really a shame th' way yer paw's place has gone to ruin--th' way you've
gone th' same route. I'd druther see ye plumb bad ern so all-fired
no-good all round.