That Girl of Johnson's — page 175: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

164 THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S ~,._ do. She was willing to do much to gain their views on many things, and she could be very kind and pleasant to them if she wished, but she still held her distance in such” an undefinable way, but clearly felt by them, as she must do, being so totally out of their lives and their manners. Many an hour in the wide, low room at the tavern, or be- side the door of an evening, they discussed Johnson’s con- dition, and freely expressed their doubts and views as to his recovery in spite of Dr. Dunwiddie’s assertion to the contrary. They had heard of such happenings before, and knew pretty well the consequences, though just such a thing had not come within their lives. And it made no difference that Lemuel Johnson had come with his money and airs to put notions in his brother’s head and set him up in his own eyes, so that he talked high to them, as he was always inclined to do, and to make a bigger fool than ever of that girl of his brother. Had they not more than he with all his professions of importance?) While Dr. Dun- widdie, over in the town among his friends at Judge Green’s, also discussed Johnson’s condition, and decided with them that it was time something was done, and done speedily, or it would be too late. “Spare no pains nor expense, Dunwiddie,” urged Lemuel Johnson, pacing up and down the pleasant parlor at Judge Green’s, his hands clasped behind him, his florid face and kindly eyes full of anxiety. “Joe’s got a wonderful consti- tution; always did have; sinews like steel when we were youngsters. This illness has been heavy to bring him down so. Surely there is some way of hastening his re- covery, and we must find it—you must find it. He’s got to have a fair chance for a place in life, comfortable, like other men, and not end it all that way. Why, it’s death in life over yonder. It’s buried in a grave large enough to turn around in, but it isn’t life. No wonder he’s lost all ambition staying there with everybody around him duller and more listless than he, excepting of course Dolores. She’s a body one wouldn’t meet always. Joe doesn’t ap-