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Updated: June 18, 2025
We hearn afterwards that Deacon Sypher and Deacon Henzy wanted to go into the North Woods a-fishin' and a-huntin' for 2 or 3 days, and it has always been spozed by me that that accounted for their religeus advice to Josiah Allen. Howsumever, I don't know that.
When they wuz got she proposed to knit three pairs of men's socks out of zephyr woosted, and she said she was goin' to try to pick enough strawberrys to buy a pair of the socks for Deacon Sypher. She said it would be a comfort for her to do it, for they would be so soft for the Deacon's feet. Wall, Sister Gowdy wuz the last one to gin in dress gin to her by her uncle out to the Ohio.
As the aperture was two feet square, all of Clem Sypher that could respond to the invitation was his head and shoulders. "Is it good morning, good afternoon, or good night?" he asked, surveying Septimus's attire. "Morning," said Septimus. "I've just got up. Have some breakfast." He moved to a bell-pull by the fireplace, and the tug was immediately followed by a loud report.
Septimus did not count. "We never play," said Zora. "Neither do I," said Sypher. "The real way to enjoy Monte Carlo is to regard these rooms as non-existent. I wish they were." "Oh, don't say that," Sypher exclaimed quickly. "They are most useful. They have a wisely ordained purpose. They are the meeting-place of the world.
He asked very little of the world, and oddly enough the world rewarded his modesty by giving him more than he asked for. To-day he had seen Sypher in a new mood, sympathetic, unegotistical, non-robustious, and he felt gratified at having won a man's friendship. It was an addition to his few anchorages in life.
The doctor brought his hand down on the edge of the footboard of the bed, with a gesture of impatience. "Why on earth do people treat themselves with quack remedies they know nothing about?" "Quack remedies!" cried Sypher. "Of course. They're all pestilential, and if I had my way I'd have them stacked in the market place and burned by the common hangman.
Then his traveler, who had arranged to meet him by appointment, was shown into the room. They were to lunch together. To ease his foot Sypher put on an evening slipper and hobbled downstairs. The traveler told a depressing tale. Jebusa Jones had got in everywhere and was underselling the Cure. A new German skin remedy had insidiously crept on to the market.
It talks all day and does nothing all night. The ragged Italian in front of the fresco in his village church or at the back of the gallery at the opera of his town knows more essentials of painting and music than any of us. It's a hollow sham of a world filled with empty words. I love it." "Then why abuse it?" laughed Sypher.
"But how shall I ever repay you?" "Perhaps once a year," he said. "You can settle up in full, as you did just now." There was a long silence and then Emmy remarked that it was a heavenly night. In the course of time Sypher returned to London to fight a losing battle against the Powers of Darkness and derive whatever inspiration he could from Zora's letters.
For a woman to impose her will upon Clem Sypher, Friend of Humanity, the Colossus of Curemongers, was no such trumpery achievement. Emmy, when she referred to the matter, expressed the hope that Zora had rubbed it into Clem Sypher. Zora deprecated the personal bearing of the slang metaphor, but admitted, somewhat grandly, that she had pointed out the error in taste.
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