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Updated: June 1, 2025
In Gabby Jack's will ... for they found one, together with a last word and testament for humanity, it was asked of Spalton that he should conduct the funeral from the Chapel ... and read the funeral oration, written by the deceased himself ... and add, if the Master felt moved, a few words thereto of his own ... if he considered that so mean a disciple deserved it.
I was working for Spalton during my stay, which I meant to make a brief one. I was shovelling coal for him, and firing a furnace. Wash as I might, I could not remove a faint blackness that clung to the edges of my eyes. This made my eyes glow and seem larger than they were. On such an extraneous and whimsical exterior circumstance hinged the young widow's interest in me.
We ran away from him ... Spalton ran away from him ... "this fellow will be the death of me," he remarked to me, one afternoon, with a light of pleasure and pride in his eyes, however, at being so worshipped. "Ah, Razorre, beware of the ignorant disciple!" There was nothing Jack would not do for Spalton. He sought out opportunities and occasions for serving him.
She was patting my hand. She mistook my rage at the gratuitous insults Spalton had heaped on me as despondency. She leaned closer against me ... quickly I caught her into my arms, drew her into my lap ... held her little, quiet, amazed face in my hands firmly, as I kissed and kissed her.... I knew how to kiss now.... She rose presently. I stood up and caught her in my arms.
And whenever he bought a new Stetson, he cut holes in the top and jumped on it, to make it look more interesting and less shop-new ... of course everybody in the community wore soft shirts and flowing ties. We addressed each other by first names and nicknames. Spalton went under the appellation of "John." One day a wealthy visitor had driven up. Spalton was out chopping wood.
Everybody laughed at the tale of this ... at first Spalton himself laughed, our American spirit of rough joking and horse-play gaining the uppermost in him ... but then he recalled to mind the seriousness of our practical joke, and burned with anger at us over what we had done. And he threatened to "fire" on the spot anyone who ever again molested "Crazy" Speedwell....
Gingerly, I put on the ragged suit.... I stood in front of the Eos Artwork Studios. I saw a boy coming down the path from one of the buildings. "Would you tell me please where I can find the Master?" I asked, reverently. The boy gave me a long stare. "Oh, you mean Mr. Spalton?" "Yes." "That's him ... there ... choppin' wood."
When Spalton wanted to send for his old, frail, white-headed father, the elder Spalton, who was the community doctor, Jack waved the idea aside. "Oh, no, Master!" The next morning Jack did not show up for breakfast. At ten o'clock Spalton, solicitous, went up to his room.... He shouted for help. He had found his disciple there, huge and dead, like a stranded sea-thing.
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