And yet
there I am, and the case'll come up afore me. What'll I do, Jed?
Shall I resign? Help me out. I'm about crazy. Shall I heave up
the job? Shall I quit?"
Jed put down the brush and the sailor man. He rubbed his chin.
"No-o," he drawled, after a moment.
"Oh, I shan't, eh? Why not?"
"'Cause you don't know how, Sam. It always seemed to me that it
took a lot of practice to be a quitter. You never practiced."
"Thanks. All right, then, I'm to hang on, I suppose, and take my
medicine. If that's all the advice you've got to give me, I might
as well have stayed at home. But I tell you this, Jed Winslow: If
I'd realized--if I'd thought about the Leander Babbitt case comin'
up afore me on that Board I never would have accepted the
appointment. When you and I were talkin' here the other night it's
queer that neither of us thought of it. . . . Eh? What are you
lookin at me like that for? You don't mean to tell me that YOU DID
think of it? Did you?"
Winslow nodded.
"Yes," he said. "I thought of it."
"You DID! Well, I swear! Then why in thunder didn't you--"
He was interrupted. The bell attached to the door of the outer
shop rang. The maker of windmills rose jerkily to his feet.
Captain Sam made a gesture of impatience.
"Get rid of your customer and come back here soon as you can," he
ordered.
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