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Updated: June 29, 2025
Vaniman was clearly not the captain of his soul in those distressing circumstances. He was displaying symptoms of collapse. Squire Hexter noted and acted. "Wincott, this boy must not stay here in this town any longer. If that prison guard runs afoul of him before I get matters under way at the shire, Frank will be galloped back to his cell in order to make a grandstand play. I've got to be going.
I'm only an old country codger, son!" "Squire Hexter, I propose to let the other side have a monopoly of the tricks. I'm depending on my innocence, and I want your honesty back of it." In the hope that the folks of Egypt would recognize innocence when they saw it, Vaniman daily walked the streets of the village.
Men came tramping up the screaking outside stairs that conducted to the office; the Squire had a room over Ward's general store. The men were led into the office by Isaac Jones "Gid-dap Ike," he was named the driver of the mail stage between Egypt and the railroad at Levant. For a moment Squire Hexter looked really alarmed.
Then Squire Hexter began to read aloud, in a tone whose twist of satire gave the text its full flavor: "We hasten to proclaim in the land of Egypt that Pharaoh Britt has reached for the scepter, though he had not loosed his grip on the gouge. You will know him here and hereafter by his everlasting grip on the gouge. He will take that gouge to Tophet with him.
I am sure you're nice enough, and good-looking enough, for the best in the way of purple and fine linen to come to you by the law of attraction don't you believe in the law of attraction, Mrs. Archbold?" Lydia Sessions got up and moved away in shocked silence. Mrs. Hexter was a good deal of a thorn in her flesh, and she only tolerated her because of Mr. Hexter and his position.
Yes, by George! that was it, and it was a long ways-better taste than the frocks Miss Sessions and Mrs. Hexter were wearing. Johnnie considered his last remark, her gaze still following the movements of the Negro fiddler at the head of the room.
The very next Wednesday Miss Sessions gave a dance to the members of her Uplift Club. These gaieties were rather singular and ingenious affairs, sterilized dances, Mrs. Hexter irreverently dubbed them.
Then Hexter explained that his revival of Wilkins' old burlesque on 'Faust' couldn't be put on to-night, because Renshaw, who was to be the Mephisto, was too sick to walk. 'No one else knows the part, Hexter said. Then I told him I knew the part; how I'd played Valentine to Wilkins' Mephisto when the piece was first produced before these Gaiety people brought their 'Faust up-to-date' from London.
After the euchre, the Squire and Frank trudged over to the Hexter home; the cashier boarded with the Squire and his wife, Xoa.
Young Hopkins asked me to have a drink at the Hoffman this afternoon, and, while I was in there, Hexter, who managed the 'Silver King' Company the season I played Coombe, came in all rattled. 'Why this extravagant wrath? Hopkins asked, in his picturesque way.
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