ving in. What do you know about Him, after all?"

"I know," said the cobbler, "just what I've told you before, when
you've asked me the same question. I know He was once in the world, an'
didn't do anybody any harm, an' done a good deal of good, an' taught
folks to do right an' how to do it. Everybody believes that, don't
they?"

"I suppose it's safe to admit that much."

"Well, sir, I'm tryin' to foller Him an' learn of Him. I'm believin' in
Him just like I believe in old Andrew Jackson."

"Is that all?"

"That's enough,--as far as I've got. You're a good deal smarter than I
be, sir: won't you tell me how to go further?"

The lawyer shook his head and departed. The cobbler fell on his knees
and buried his face in his hands. The lawyer, chancing to look in the
window, saw the movement; then he drew his hat down over his eyes and
sauntered off.

CHAPTER X.

The genuineness of the change which had come over Sam Kimper slowly
became the subject of general conversation in Bruceton. Judge Prency
frequently spoke of it; so did his wife; and, as the Prencys were
leaders of village society, whatever interested them became the
fashion. People with shoes which needed repairing visited the new
cobbler in great numbers, each prompted as much by curiosity as by
business, for they seldom haggled about prices.

Sam's family, too, began to receive some attention. Mrs. Prency, having
first secured a promise from Sam that the children should go to
Sunday-school if they could be decently clad, interested several ladies
to the extent of bestowing some old clothing, which she hired a sewing
woman to make over into becoming garments for Billy and Mary. Mrs.
Kimper, too, was enabled to dress well enough to appear in church,
though she stipulated that she should go only to evening services.

"I don't 'mount to much, Mrs. Prency," said she to the family's
benefactor; "there ain't much left of me as I once was, but I ain't
goin' to have people look at me the way they do, any more than I can
help."

"The feeling does you credit, Mrs. Kimper," said the lady, "but you
won't long be troubled that way. The oftener you let people see you,
the less curious they'll be."

Sam's new way of life, too, began to be discussed where men most
congregated. Loungers at stores, the railway station, and the
post-office talked of the town's only ex-convict who had not yet gone
back to his old ways. Most of the men who talked of him did it in