It was a time
when all America was obsessed with one idea, and to the people of Bidwell
nothing could be more important, necessary and vital to progress than the
things Hugh had done. He did not walk and talk like the other people of the
town, and his body was over-large and loosely put together, but in secret
he did not want to be different even in a physical way. Now and then there
came an opportunity for a test of physical strength: an iron bar was to be
lifted or a part of some heavy machine swung into place in the shop. In
such a test he had found he could lift almost twice the load another could
handle. Two men grunted and strained, trying to lift a heavy bar off the
floor and put it on a bench. He came along and did the job alone and
without apparent effort.
In his room at night or in the late afternoon or evening in the summer when
he walked on country roads, he sometimes felt keen hunger for recognition
of his merits from his fellows, and having no one to praise him, he praised
himself. When the Governor of the State spoke in praise of him before a
crowd and when he made Rose McCoy come away because it seemed immodest for
him to stay and hear such words, he found himself unable to sleep. After
tossing in his bed for two or three hours he got up and crept quietly out
of the house. He was like a man who, having an unmusical voice, sings to
himself in a bath-room while the water is making a loud, splashing noise.
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