extravagant promise of their youth, and the wounded hamlet of Campville
had crept into the woods and died. The "Lone Star House" was an attempt
to woo the passing travelers from another point; but its road led to
Campville, and was already touched by its dry-rot. Bill, who honestly
conceived that the infusion of fresh young blood like Jeff's into the
stagnant current would quicken it, had to confess his disappointment.
"I thought ye could put some go into the shanty, Jeff," said Bill, "and
make it lively and invitin'!" But the lack of vitality was not in the
landlord, but in the guests. The regular customers were disappointed,
vacant, hopeless men, who gathered listlessly on the veranda, and talked
vaguely of the past. Their hollow-eyed, feeble impotency affected the
stranger, even as it checked all ambition among themselves. Do what Jeff
might, the habits of the locality were stronger than his individuality;
the dead ghosts of the past Campville held their property by invisible
mortmain.

In the midst of this struggle the "Half-way House" was sold. Spite of
Bill's prediction, the proceeds barely paid Jeff's debts. Aunt Sally
prevented any troublesome consideration of HER future, by applying
a small surplus of profit to the expenses of a journey back to her
relatives in Kentucky. She wrote Jeff a letter of cheerless instruction,
reminded him of the fulfillment of her worst prophecies regarding him,
but begged him, in her absence, to rely solely upon the "Word." "For the
sperrit killeth," she added vaguely. Whether this referred figuratively
to Jeff's business, he did not stop to consider. He was more interested
in the information that the Mayfields had removed to the "Summit Hotel"
two days after he had left. "She allowed it was for her health's sake,"
continued Aunt Sally, "but I reckon it's another name for one of them
city fellers who j'ined their party and is keepin' company with her now.
They talk o' property and stocks and sich worldly trifles all the time,