"What of that!" exclaimed Mr. Rush, and he looked at the organist amazed.
"Yes, what of it? The man has his health and his faculties. What's money?"
"What's money!"
"Yes, sir, when you come to the point—what is it? Eyes, hands, feet—blood, brain, heart, soul? You would think so to hear him talk. It's dust! I've seen that proved, sir, and I know 'tis true!"
"You don't allow for circumstances," said the stranger, sharply.
"Circumstances!" repeated Summerman, incredulous.
"Yes, the difference between your affairs and those of your neighbors. You seem to judge others by yourself?"
"My affairs! I haven't any to speak of," said the organist, with a grave sort of wonder.
"I suppose," replied the stranger, almost angrily, "you are a human creature; things happen to you, and they do not. If you have any feeling at all you are affected by what happens." He ceased speaking with the manner of a man who is annoyed that he should have been so far beguiled into speech.
"Some things have happened to me," answered Summerman quietly, seeing everything, pretending to see nothing. "I lived ten years among the Gipsies. I belonged to them. That's where I had my schooling. I worked in the tin ware; and clock mending I took up of myself. I left my people on account of a church-organ. My father and mother were dead. I had no brother or sister; nor any relation. But I had friends, and they would have kept me; but I had to choose between them and the rest. I couldn't learn the organ in the woods and meadows; I was caught by the music as easily as a pink by a pin. But I kept to the clock mending. I used to travel about on my business once in a while, for a man can't settle down to four walls and a tread-mill in a minute, when he's been used to all creation. Then I learned to take pictures, and I travelled about for a time, carrying the machine with me. But for the last year I've lived in this shop and had the church organ. So you see how it is. I have all these things to look after, and I try to keep in tune, and up to pitch.