“Guess likely.”
“I’ll drop in.”
Peter nodded, and Amos went with him to the door. When he came back, Wint was still sitting, nursing his pipe. Amos looked at him, sat down, looked at Wint again; and at last asked:
“We-ell, Wint, how’s tricks?”
Wint said, after a little consideration, that he guessed tricks were all right.
“Like being Mayor?”
“It’s—sobering,” Wint told him. “It’s a good deal of a job. For me.”
“Tell you,” said Amos. “Any job’s a good deal of a job; if a man takes it serious.”
Wint laughed. “Shouldn’t wonder if I took this too seriously,” he said.
“Can’t be done,” Amos reassured him. “Any man that has to look out for other men has a serious job.”