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Updated: June 18, 2025
He took that gratin' job to hide his groans; he wuz weepin'; his red eyes betrayed him. Philury got a good breakfast which we couldn't eat. My trunk wuz packed and in the democrat. The neighborin' wimmen brung me warm good-byes and bokays offen their house plants, and sister Sypher sent me some woosted flowers, which I left to home, and some caraway seed to nibble on my tower which I took.
I've been thinking about them seriously, and I find they're all moonshine." He smiled with wan cheerfulness at the waste of the labor of years. Sypher, on whose conscience the guns had laid their two hundred ton weight, felt greatly relieved. Their colossal scale had originally caught his imagination which loved big conceptions. Their working had seemed plausible to his inexpert eye.
Presently he turned and struck a dramatic attitude, as a man might do who had built himself a new wonder house. And then on three astonished pairs of eyes burst the following inscription in gigantic capitals which he who flew by in an express train could read: SYPHER'S CURE! Clem Sypher. Friend of Humanity! "Isn't that great?" he cried. "I've had it in my mind for years.
"All the same, sir," said he, "this is the biggest thing you've struck. May I ask how you came to strike it?" "Like all great schemes, it had humble beginnings," said Sypher, in comfortable postprandial mood, unconsciously flattered by the admiration of his subordinate. "Newton saw an apple drop to the ground: hence the theory of gravitation.
They drank the toast solemnly. And then Sypher unfolded to his awe-stricken subordinate the scheme for deblistering the heels of the armies of the world. Dennymede, fired by his enthusiasm, again lifted his brimming glass. "By God, sir, you are a conqueror, an Alexander, a Hannibal, a Napoleon! There's a colossal fortune in it."
The three beings whom she had honored with her royal and somewhat condescending affection had all done great things, passed through flames and issued thence purified with love in their hearts. Emmy, Septimus, Sypher, all in their respective ways, had grappled with essentials. She alone had done nothing she the strong, the sane, the capable, the magnificent. She had been a tinsel failure.
He also belonged to a world to which he himself was a stranger, the world of books and plays and personalities and theories of art. Sypher thought that its denizens lived on a lofty plane. "The atmosphere," said Rattenden, "is so rarified that the kettle refuses to boil properly. That is why we always have cold tea at literary gatherings. My dear fellow, it's a damned world.
The two foreign deacons from 'way beyond Jonesville, Deacon Keeler and Deacon Huffer, and our own three Jonesvillians Deacon Henzy, Deacon Sypher, and my own particular Deacon, Josiah Allen.
He shrank into his shell. Had he not realized, in his sensitive way, that without him as a watchdog ineffectual spaniel that he was Zora would not accept Clem Sypher's invitation, he would have excused himself from the drive. He differentiated, not conceitedly, between Clem Sypher and himself. She had driven alone with him on her first night at Monte Carlo.
"I'll buy it at once," said he. "En voiture," cried the guard. Sypher put out his masterful hand. "Au revoir. Remember. We are friends. I never say what I don't mean." The train moved out of the station. Zora took her seat opposite Septimus. "I really believe he'll do it," she said. "What?" "Oh, something crazy," said Zora. "Tell me about the street row."
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