Sparrow looked up and blinked.
“What’s eating you?” he inquired.
Jonesie grunted and sank into a chair. “Find out,” he said affably. Sparrow shrugged his narrow shoulders and turned back to his book. Jonesie continued to glower upon him. At length:
“You’ll turn into a book some day,” he sneered.
“You’ll turn into a jug of vinegar some day,” replied the other, without looking up. But the cleverness of the retort brought a smirk to his face. Seeing it, Jonesie reached a foot forward and dexterously sent the paper-covered volume hurtling across the room.
“Fresh!” he muttered.
Sparrow viewed him angrily through the round lenses of his rubber-rimmed spectacles.
“You pick that up!” he demanded.
Jonesie smiled cheerfully. “Yes, I will!” he responded. But the tone of voice rather contradicted the statement. Sparrow glared indecisively from his companion to the book. Sparrow was not afraid of Jonesie, but he was far too lazy to engage in combat unless absolutely driven to it. Finally, with a shrug:
“It’ll stay there, then,” he said.