andles, a keg and a large wooden pail occupied its farther end.
The shelving on its side walls was filled by straw hats, plug tobacco,
bolts of cloth, pills and patent medicines and paste-board boxes
containing shirts, handkerchiefs and underwear. A suit of blue jeans,
scythes and snaths, hoes, wooden hand rakes and a brass warming-pan hung
from the rafters. At the rear end of the store was a large fireplace.
There were two chairs near the fireplace, both of which were occupied by
a man who sat in one while his feet lay on the other. He was sleeping
peacefully, his chin resting on his breast. He wore a calico shirt with a
fanciful design of morning-glories on it printed in appropriate colors, a
collar of the same material and a red necktie.

Abe laid aside his book and rose to a sitting posture.

"Pardon me--you see the firm is busy," said Abe. "You know Eb Zane used
to say that he was never so busy in his life as when he lay on his back
with a broken leg. He said he had to work twenty-four hours a day doin'
nothin' an' could never git an hour off. But a broken leg is not so bad
as a lame intellect. That lays you out with the fever an' ague of
ignorance. Jack Kelso recommended Kirkham's pills and poultices of
poetry. I'm trying both and slowly getting the better of it. I've learned
three conjugations, between customers, this afternoon."

The man sleeping in the chair began snoring and groaning.

"Don't blame Bill," Abe went on. "Any man would have the nightmare in a
shirt like that. He went to a dance at Clary's Grove last night and they
shut him up in a barrel with a small dog and rolled 'em down hill in it.
I reckon that's how he learnt how to growl."

In the laughter that followed the sleeper awoke.

"You see there's quite an undercurrent beneath the placid surface of our
enterprise," Abe added.

The sleeper whose name was William Berry rose and stretched himself and
was introduced to the newcomer. He was a short, genial man, of some
thirty years, with blond, curly hair and mustache. On account of his
shortness and high color he was often referred to as the Billberry
shortcake. His fat cheeks had a color as definite as that of the blossoms
on his shirt, now rather soiled. His prominent nose shared their glow of
ruddy opulence. His gray eyes wore a look of apology. He walked rather
stiffly as if his legs were rheumatic.

"Mr. Traylor, this is Mr. William Berry," said Dr. Allen. "In this
beautiful shirt he rese