e.

And early in the morning of the day she was to get up Doc Philipps
drove up in his buggy with what seemed like a young garden tucked
inside it. Fanny's garden and borders had been sadly neglected during
her sickness. The doctor had had John clean the whole thing up and
then he came with his arms and buggy full of blossoming tulips,
hyacinths and every bloom that was in flower then and would bear
transplanting. And for hours he and John worked to make a little
fairyland for Fanny.

"My God, John, I couldn't mend her body--nobody could. But between us
we have got to mend her spirit." And the old doctor blew his nose hard
to hide the trembling of his chin.

But no chair, no amount of tulips and hyacinths, could make up to Fanny
the loss of her body. And Green Valley knew this. So Green Valley was
talking more seriously than ever of driving out from among them the
thing that was pushing Jim Tumley into a drunkard's grave, that was
estranging hitherto happy wives and husbands and maiming innocent men,
women and children. Little Billy was all right again but he was now a
timid youngster and inclined to be jumpy at sight of a smartly trotting
horse. Hank Lolly's leg was healed up but Doc said he would always
limp a bit. Seth and his wife had made up, of course, but neither of
them could ever efface from their hearts and memories the cruel scenes
that had marred their life this past year.

Seth no longer went near the saloon. He had paid dearly for his
stubbornness and would continue to pay to the end of his days. Billy
Evans had swung around and was fighting the saloon now with a grimness
that was terrible in one so easy-going and liberal as Billy.

But nothing seemingly could convert George Hoskins. And so long as
George Hoskins was against a measure its passage was a hopeless matter,
for men like George always have a host of followers.

George was a huge man whose mind worked slowly. When he first heard
the talk about the town going dry he laughed--and that was enough. No
one argued the matter with him for no one relished the thought of an
argument with George. And only the minister had dared to mention Jim
Tumley. In his big way George loved little Jim, but since his wife had
sickened George spent every spare minute in her sick room and so
witnessed none of the scenes that were rousing Green Valley folks into
open rebellion against the evil that enslaved them.

George belonged to the old school