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Updated: May 19, 2025
Sam Warden's whip sang across the horses; lather gathered on their flanks, and Ariel's voice steadily urged on the pace: "Quicker, Sam, if you can." For there was little breath left in the body of Eskew Arp.
If there were any doubt left, his forehead was somewhat disfigured by the scar of an old wound such as might have been caused by a blunt instrument in the nature of a poker. "What's the matter with YOU?" Mr. Arp whirled upon Uncle Joe Davey, who was enjoying himself by repeating at intervals the unreasonable words, "Couldn't of be'n Joe," without any explanation. "Why couldn't it?" shouted Eskew.
"You needn't," he returned, sharply. "It was a pleasure. Do you remember how easy and quick I promised you?" "I remember that you were very kind." "Kind!" He gave forth an acid and chilling laugh. "It was about two months after Louden ran away, and before you and Roger left Canaan, and you asked me to promise to write to you whenever word of that outcast came " "I didn't put it so, Mr. Arp."
"I'm imposed on, often enough," he replied, rubbing his leg, "by people who think I am! Why?" "It is only that your sitting so abruptly upon the ground reminded me of something that happened long ago, before I left Canaan, the last time I met you." "I don't think I knew you before you went away. You haven't said if you'll go riding with me to-morrow. Please " "Get up," interrupted Mr. Arp, acidly.
Here's a town that's jest one squirmin' mass of lies and envy and vice and wickedness and corruption " "Hold on!" exclaimed Colonel Flitcroft. "That's a slander upon our hearths and our government. Why, when I was in the Council " "It wasn't a bit worse then," Mr. Arp returned, unreasonably. "Jest you look how the devil fools us.
Yours always and ever, CON. January 6th, 1917. MY DEAR ONES: I have just seen a brother officer aboard the ex-London bus en route for Blighty. How I wished I could have stepped on board that ex-London perambulator to-night! "Pickerdilly Cirkuss, 'Ighbury, 'Ighgate, Welsh 'Arp all the wye." O my, what a time I'll have when I meet you!
"I'd like to see Henry Louden try to interfere with 'Gene Bantry. Fanny'd lock the old fool up in the cellar." The lofty vision lurched out of view. "I reckon," said the Colonel, leaning forward to see the last of it "I reckon Henry Louden's about the saddest case of abused step-father I ever saw." "It's his own fault," said Mr. Arp "twice not havin' sense enough not to marry.
The Squire had him; and paused, and stroked his chin, to make the ruin complete. "Then I reckon you'll have to admit," he murmured, "that, while I ain't defendin' Joe Louden's character, it was kind of proper for him to stand by a feller that wouldn't hear nothin' against him, and fought for him as soon as he DID hear it!" Eskew Arp rose from his chair and left the hotel.
Arp contain himself. At the top of his voice, necessarily, he agreed with Roger that faces changed, not only from day to day, and not only because of light and air and such things, but from hour to hour, and from minute to minute, through the hideous stimulus of hypocrisy.
"She missed him," said Squire Buckalew. "I saw him go out half an hour ago. BUT," he added, and, exercising a self-restraint close upon the saintly, did not even glance toward the heap which was Mr. Arp, "I notice she left her flowers!" Ariel was not the only one who climbed the dingy stairs that day and read the pencilled script upon Joe's door: "Will not return until evening. J. Louden."
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