I says, 'Look here, ain't it
really because he just plain hated it?' 'Yes,' he says, 'that's it.
If he'd enjoyed it, it wouldn't 'a' hurt him. He loathes it, and
that affects his nervous system. The more he tries it, the more he
hates it; and the more he hates it, the more injury it does him.'
That ain't quite his words, but it's what he meant. And that's about
the way it is."
"Yes," said Bibbs, "that's about the way it is."
"Well, then, I reckon it's up to me not only to make you do it, but
to make you like it!"
Bibbs shivered. And he turned upon his father a look that was almost
ghostly. "I can't," he said, in a low voice. "I can't."
"Can't go back to the shop?"
"No. Can't like it. I can't."
Sheridan jumped up, his patience gone. To his own view, he had
reasoned exhaustively, had explained fully and had pleaded more than
a father should, only to be met in the end with the unreasoning and
mysterious stubbornness which had been Bibbs's baffling characteristic
from childhood. "By George, you will!" he cried. "You'll go back
there and you'll like it! Gurney says it won't hurt you if you like
it, and he says it'll kill you if you go back and hate it; so it looks
as if it was about up to you not to hate it.
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