Shocks are not very beneficial to sensitive natures. William Wetherell looked up, and there was Jethro Bass on the doorstep.
“G-great resource—readin'—great resource,” he remarked.
In this manner Jethro snuffed out utterly that passion to destroy, and another sensation took its place—a sensation which made it very difficult for William Wetherell to speak, but he managed to reply that reading had been a great resource to him. Jethro had a parcel in his hand, and he laid it down on the step beside him; and he seemed, for once in his life, to be in a mood for conversation.
“It's hard for me to read a book,” he observed. “I own to it—it's a little mite hard. H-hev to kind of spell it out in places. Hain't had much time for readin'. But it's kind of pleasant to l'arn what other folks has done in the world by pickin' up a book. T-takes your mind off things—don't it?”
Wetherell felt like saying that his reading had not been able to do that lately. Then he made the plunge, and shuddered as he made it.
“Mr. Bass—I—I have been waiting to speak to you about that mortgage.”
“Er—yes,” he answered, without moving his head, “er—about the mortgage.”
“Mr. Worthington told me that you had bought it.”
“Yes, I did—yes, I did.”
“I'm afraid you will have to foreclose,” said Wetherell; “I cannot reasonably ask you to defer the payments any longer.”