"Wonder 'f Eph's got back; they say his sentence run out yisterday."
The speaker, John Doane, was a sunburnt fisherman, one of a circle of well-salted individuals who sat, some on chairs, some on boxes and barrels, around the stove in a country store.
"Yes," said Captain Seth, a middle-aged little man with ear-rings; "he come on the stage to-noon. Would n't hardly speak a word, Jim says. Looked kind o' sot and sober."
"Wall," said the first...
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