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Updated: June 12, 2025
Her inspiration had touched all of Polktown and had awakened and rejuvenated the old place. She had learned that all that the majority of people needed to rank them on the active side of right, was to be made to think. She determined that Polktown should be made to think upon this subject of liquor selling.
Why, Hopewell, there ain't so much money not in Polktown, at least 'nless it's hid away in a broken teapot on the top shelf of a cupboard in Elder Concannon's house. They say he's got the first dollar he ever earned, and most all that he's gathered since that time." Janice heard all this as she stood in the back room with 'Rill.
But his daughter, though possessing her share of feminine vanity in dress, saw first another use for a part of this unexpected windfall. She said nothing to a soul but Walky Dexter, however. It was to be a secret between them. There was so much going on in Polktown just then that Walky could keep a secret, as he confessed himself, "without half trying."
"If he only could retire to dear Polktown for the rest of his life and we could live together in peace." "Hi tunket!" exclaimed Marty, pushing back his chair from the supper table just as the outer door opened. "He kin have my share of the old farm," for Marty had taken a mighty dislike to farming and had long before this stated his desire to be a civil engineer.
Middler's first sermon on temperance was in no uncertain tone. Indeed, that good man's discourses nowadays were very different from those he had been wont to give the congregation of the Union Church when Janice had first come to Polktown. In the old-fashioned phrase, Mr. Middler had "found liberty." There was nothing sensational about his sermons.
The old gentleman, although conservative to a fault where money was concerned his money, or anybody's agreed that one or two men should not be allowed to benefit at the moral expense of their fellow townsmen. That the liquor selling was causing a festering sore in the community of Polktown could not be gainsaid.
"Seems ter me that old fiddle is what they call a sticker, ain't it, 'stead of a Straddlevarious?" chuckled Walky Dexter, referring to the instrument hanging on the wall behind Joe's head. "Oh, I'll get my money back on it," Bodley replied, with studied carelessness. "Maybe I'll raffle it off." "Not here in Polktown ye won't," said the expressman.
Suddenly the flickering lightning seemed less threatening. As quickly as it had burst, the tempest passed away. "My jimminy! She's fainted," Lem Parraday murmured, lifting the woman in his strong arms. As the Summer advanced visitors flocked to Polktown.
'Rill's secret misgivings regarding Hopewell Drugg, little Lottie's peril of blindness, the general tendency of Polktown as a whole to suffer the bad effects of liquor selling at the tavern all these things had added to Janice's anxiety. Now, on the crest of the threatening wave, rode this happening to Nelson Haley, an account of which Marty had brought home.
"Besides, Uncle," put in Janice, softly, and with a smile, "it is adobe not dough they build their houses of." "Huh!" snorted Uncle Jason. "Don't keer a continental. He's one foolish man. He'd better throw up the whole business, come back here to Polktown, and I'll let him have a piece of the old farm to till." "Oh! that would be lovely, Uncle Jason!" cried Janice, clasping her hands.
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