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 was the reason that Judge Crane was, in his devious way, training his son for the dubious career of filling a dead man’s shoes. Mr. Woodhouse, who had filled his own shoes very well indeed, did not, perhaps, like overmuch to consider other feet in his leather….

On the day when Dave Wilkins made his first appearance out of doors and was sitting emaciated and weak in a big chair on Craig Browning’s porch, Mr. Woodhouse had been engaged on some such plans for Angus. On his way to the bank he chanced to pass the house and Wilkins waved to him a thin and feeble hand.

“Young man,” said Mr. Woodhouse as he turned in at the gate, “this is good seeing.”

“Sort of unexpected, too,” Dave replied. “I’m wondering if I’m not an anticlimax.”

“There were times when hope was faint,” said the old gentleman, depositing his shining silk hat on the railing. “And, as to being an anticlimax, Wilkins, it’s a thing no man can be—so long as he retains one useful muscle in his body.”

“The most useful muscle in the human body,” said Dave, “is located inside the skull. As I have lain here, utterly useless, I have wondered if my life in bed were not about as useful as any of my active life has managed to be….”

“Nonsense.”

“What have I done? What have I been?