She had been standing before him in the moonlight with downcast face; now she suddenly threw up her head with a gesture that reminded him of the way a drowning man throws up his hands.
"You've been wanting to convert me," she said.

"You want me to sign the pledge, and to stop going to dances and playing cards, and to bring up Christa that way." All the thoughts that he had had since his reform of what he could do for this girl and her sister if she would only let him came before his heart now, lit through and through with the light of his love that at that moment renewed its strength with a power which appalled him.
She took a few steps nearer to him.
"Father didn't mean to do any harm," she whispered hastily; "he's got no more sin on his soul than a child that gets angry and fights for what it wants.

He's just like a child, father is; but it's been a lesson to him, and he'll never do it again.

Think of the shame to Christa and me if he was hanged.

And I've striven so to keep us respectable--Bart, you know I have.