I should think, judge,
that Sam Kimper had been converting you over again and doing it
backwards. That fellow has only got hold of one end of the
Scripture--one little jag end of it."
"Too small an end to be worthy of your attention, I suppose, deacon?"
"This is all wasted time and idle talk, Judge Prency," said the deacon,
leaving the place so quickly that he forgot to ask for his letters.
CHAPTER XI.
One bright, breezy October afternoon, Sam Kimper's daughter Jane got
"an hour off" from her duties at the hotel, and proceeded to devote it
to her highest ideal of possible enjoyment. There were many other
pleasures for which she longed, but, as they were unattainable just
then, she made the most of that which was within her reach for the time
being. It was to array herself in her best and saunter to and fro in
the principal streets, look into shop windows, and exchange winks and
rude remarks with young men and women with whom she was acquainted.
Although her attire was about what one would expect of a drunkard's
child who had spent her later years in the kitchen and corridors of a
hotel, Jane was not an unsightly creature. There must have been good
physical quality in one side or other of her family, in past
generations, which was trying to reappear, for Jane had a fine figure,
expressive eyes, and a good complexion.
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