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 about
the manner of spectators of the gladiatorial combats in ancient Rome:
they admired the endurance and courage of the man, but seldom did it
occur to them to stretch out a hand to help him. There were exceptions
to this rule, however. An old farmer who had brought a load of wheat to
the station listened to the tale, asked a great many questions about
the case, and said, finally,--

"I s'pose you're all doin' all you can to help him along?"

The by-standers looked at one another, but no one answered in the
affirmative. One man at last found words to say, "Why, he's tryin' to
help hisself along, and we're watchin' to see how he'll succeed. Now, I
was along by his place this mornin', an' seen him carryin' in the last
wood from his wood-pile. 'Sam,' I hollered, 'don't you want to buy a