Somebody rattled the door knob and then rapped on the door. This was so unusual a method of seeking entrance to a hardware store that Scattergood sat up abruptly, blinking.
"Wa-al," he said, tartly, "be you comin' in, or be you goin' to stand out there wagglin' that door knob all day?"
"I'm coming in, Mr. Baines, as soon as I can contrive to open the door," replied a male voice, a voice that appeared incapable of expressing impatience; a gentle voice; the voice of a man who would dream dreams but perform few actions.
"Um!... It's you, hey? What d'you allus carry books under your arm for? How d'you calculate to be able to open doors, with both hands full?"
The knob turned at last, and Nahum Pound, long schoolmaster in the little district school on Hiper Hill, came in hesitatingly, clutching with each arm half a dozen books which struggled to escape with the ingenuity of inanimate objects. Nahum's hair was white; his face was vague—lovably vague.... A man of considerable, if confused, learning, he was.
"Well?" said Scattergood. "Got suthin' on to your mind? Commence unloadin' it before it busts your back."
"It's Sarah," said Nahum, helplessly.
"Um!... Sairy, eh? What's Sairy up to?"
"I don't seem to gather, Mr. Baines. She's—she's difficult. Something seems to be working in her head."
"Twenty-two, hain't she? Twenty-two?... Prob'ly a number of things a-workin' in her head. Got any special symptoms?"