It was something that laughed and sobbed and gibbered horribly. Hank
and Billy tried to hold the ghastly thing erect between them but it
slipped from their trembling hands and lay, a twitching heap, at the
head of the open grave.
That was Green Valley's darkest hour. And after that came the dawn.
The following week Green Valley men walked quietly to the polls and as
one man voted the horror out of their lives. The day after little Jim
went off to take the Keeley cure. And then for two long weeks Green
Valley was still with the stillness of exhaustion.
Spring deepened and brought with it all the old gladness and a new
sweet peace, a peace such as Green Valley had never known. Gardens
began to bloom again and streets rippled with the laughter of
neighboring men and women. Life swung back to normal. Only the hotel
stood silent, a still vacant-eyed reminder of past pain. Nobody
mentioned it. Every one tried to forget it. But so long as it stood
there, a specter within its heart, Green Valley could not forget. It
was said that Sam Ellis had put it up for sale. But who would buy the
huge place?
Then it was that Green Valley's three good little men came forward.
Joe Gans, the socialist barber, was spokesman.
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