His dress suited his pretensions--the soft rich broadcloth which
tailors called doeskin, and linen of a fineness rare outside the eastern
cities. He was not popular in Ohio, but he was respected for his sharp
tongue, subtle brain, and intractable honesty.
His business finished, he had the task of filling up the evening, for he
could not leave for home till the morrow. His host, Mr. George Curtin, was
a little shy of his guest and longed profoundly to see the last of him. It
was obvious that this alert lawyer regarded the Springfield folk as
mossbacks--which might be well enough for St. Louis and Chicago, but was
scarcely becoming in a man from Steubenville. Another kind of visitor he
might have taken to a chickenfight, but one glance at Stanton barred that
solution. So he compromised on Speed's store.
"There's one or two prominent citizens gathered there most nights," he
explained. "Like as not we'll find Mr. Lincoln. I reckon you've heard of
Abe Lincoln?"
Mr. Stanton had not. He denied the imputation as if he were annoyed.
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