"There's not much choice between them and yours, I believe," declared Janice.
"They're handier."
"You've got your own neighborhood. You used to have customers."
"Oh, yes. But that's when the store was new."
"Make it new again," cried Janice, feeling a good deal as though she would like to shake this hopeless man. Hopewell, indeed! His name surely did not fit him in the least. Wasn't old Mrs. Scattergood almost right when she called him "a gump"? At least, if "gump" meant a spineless creature?
Drugg was looking languidly about the store in the dim, brown light. Outside the rain still fell heavily. Occasionally the clouds would lighten for a moment as they frequently do in the hills; but the rain was still behind them and would burst through.
"Come, Mr. Drugg," said Janice, more softly. "Let me show you what I mean. You can't really expect folks to come here and trade when they can scarcely see through the windows——"
"Yes, yes," he murmured. "I had ought to clean up a bit."
"More than that!" she cried. "You want to have a regular overhauling—take account of stock, and all that—know what you've got—arrange your goods attractively—get rid of the flies—put on fresh paint——"
He was looking at her with wide-open eyes. "My soul!" he breathed. "How'd I ever git around to doin' all that?"