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Updated: June 9, 2025
A great many things had happened to her since the day when young Lucius Harney had entered the doors of the Hatchard Memorial, but none, perhaps, so unforeseen as the fact of her suddenly finding it a convenience to be on good terms with Liff Hyatt.
Naturally, whatever was movable about the place soon disappeared and the deserted house became "haunted" in the manner of its kind. One summer evening, four or five years later, the Rev. J. Gruber, of Norton, and a Maysville attorney named Hyatt met on horseback in front of the Harding place.
Hyatt said: "The reconcentration order is relaxed, but not removed; but many people have reached a point where it is a matter of entire indifference to them whether it is removed or not, for they have lost all interest in the problem of existence.
And," he added to himself, "I wouldn't go through it again for fifty thousand!" Mr. Anthony T. Hyatt, attorney-at-law, leaned smilingly back in a swivel-chair, matched ten pudgy fingers together and smiled expansively at his clients. There was a great deal of Mr. Hyatt, and much of it lay directly behind his clasped hands.
In the mean time, Colonel Wildman, in occasional interviews, had obtained further particulars of the story of the stranger, and found that poverty was added to the other evils of her forlorn and isolated state. Her name was Sophia Hyatt. She was the daughter of a country bookseller, but both her parents had died several years before.
Liff Hyatt, for a while, considered her with surprise; then he scratched his head and shifted his weight from one tattered sole to the other. "There's always the same folks in the brown house," he said with his vague grin. "They're from up your way, ain't they?" "Their name's the same as mine," he rejoined uncertainly. Charity still held him with resolute eyes.
Hyatt closes this communication, "a man is dying in the street in front of my door, the third in a comparatively small time." Mr. Hyatt's letter of December 21 deals largely with the sickness and the death rate on the island, which he characterizes as appalling. "Statistics," he says, "make a grievous showing, but come far short of the truth.
He has to keep an inn for the benefit of the parish, and gets no pay for it." "Cut them off," said Mr. Hardcap. But he said it good naturedly. "'Given to hospitality, says the Apostle," replied Father Hyatt. "Well," said Deacon Goodsole, with a sigh, "we ought to pay the fifteen hundred a year. It's none too much. But I don't see where it's coming from." "Oh! never you fear," said Mr. Wheaton.
Hyatt of Boston, showed very clearly how the course of evolution becomes materially changed when desires and will become prominent as factors. I agree that, as a partial motive, structure does limit and determine function. There is no question about that.
Charity sank back on her heels and looked at him musingly. She was not in the least afraid of poor Liff Hyatt, though he "came from the Mountain," and some of the girls ran when they saw him.
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