At that moment Mr. Jeminy himself entered the store. "I'd like to buy a pencil," he said. "The pencil I have in mind," he explained, "is soft, and writes easily, but has no eraser."
"There you are," said the storekeeper; "that's five cents."
"I used to pay four," said Mr. Jeminy, looking for the extra penny.
"Well, perhaps you did," said Mr. Frye, "but prices are very high now."
And he moved away to register the sale.
Farmer Barly, who was a member of the school board, cleared his throat, and blew on his nose. "Hem," he remarked. "Good-day."
"Good-day," said Mr. Jeminy politely, and went out of the store with his pencil. Left to themselves, Mr. Frye and Mr. Barly began to discuss him. "Jeminy is growing old," said Mr. Frye, with a shake of his head.
Mr. Barly, although stupid, liked to be direct. "I was brought up on plus and minus," he said, "and I've yet to meet the man who can get the better of me. Now what do you think of that, Mr. Frye?"
Mr. Frye looked up, down, and around; then he began to polish his spectacles. But he only said, "There's some good in that."
"There is indeed," said Mr. Barly, closing one eye, and nodding his head a number of times. "There is indeed. But those days are over, Mr. Frye. When I was a child I had the fear of God put into me. It was put into me with a birch rod. But nowadays, Mr. Frye, the children neglect their sums, and grow up wild as nettles. I don't know what they're learning nowadays."
And he blew his nose again, as though to say, "What a pity."