"Ross," she asked, "wa'n't that your grandfather's?"
"Yes. He used it in his place of business."
"I call to mind seein' it in the old distillery when I was a girl," pursued the widow, who never called a spade an agricultural implement. "Distillin's a wicked business."
"People thought differently about many things in my grandfather's day."
The widow sniffed. "Wrong's wrong. Is that Seneca Bowers's roll-top desk?"
"It was Mr. Bowers's. I bought it when we dissolved partnership."
"Law books, too?"
"Yes."
"Threw in the pictur's, I s'pose?" indicating some dingy lithographs of political worthies past and present.
"Yes," admitted Shelby with superhuman good nature; "they came to boot."