“No,” he said, parting his coat tails and seating himself on the counter. “Go on figurin', don't mind me.”
The thing was manifestly impossible. Perhaps Wetherell indicated as much by his answer.
“Like storekeepin'?” Jethro asked presently, perceiving that he did not continue his work.
“A man must live, Mr. Bass,” said Wetherell; “I had to leave the city for my health. I began life keeping store,” he added, “but I little thought I should end it so.”
“Given to book-l'arnin' then, wahn't you?” Jethro remarked. He did not smile, but stared at the square of light that was the doorway, “Judson's jewellery store, wahn't it? Judson's?”
“Yes, Judson's,” Wetherell answered, as soon as he recovered from his amazement. There was no telling from Jethro's manner whether he were enemy or friend; whether he bore the storekeeper a grudge for having attained to a happiness that had not been his.
“Hain't made a great deal out of life, hev you? N-not a great deal?” Jethro observed at last.
Wetherell flushed, although Jethro had merely stated a truth which had often occurred to the storekeeper himself.
“It isn't given to all of us to find Rome in brick and leave it in marble,” he replied a little sadly.
Jethro Bass looked at him quickly.