"Well," sighed the storekeeper, finally coming back from his reverie as though all the time he had been talking to Janice. "It turned out this way for me, you see. And here's Lottie. Poor little Lottie! I wish the store _did_ pay me better. Perhaps something could be done for the child at the school in Boston. They have specialists there----" "But, Mr. Drugg! why don't you _try_?" gasped Janice, quite shaken by all she had heard and _felt_. "Try what, Miss?" he asked, curiously. "Why don't you try to make business better? Can't you improve it?" "How, Miss?" "Oh, dear me! You don't want _me_ to tell you how, do you?" cried Janice, "I--I am afraid it would sound impudent." "I couldn't imagine your being that, Miss Janice," he said, in his slow way, looking down at her with a smile that somehow sweetened his gray, lean face mightily. "But why not put out some effort to attract trade here?" "To this little, dark, old shop?" asked Drugg, in wonder. "Impossible!" "Don't use that word!" the girl commanded, with vigor. "How do you know it is impossible?" "People prefer the big shops on High Street." "There's not much choice between them and yours, I believe," declared Janice. "They're handier." "You've got your own neighborhood. You used to have customers." "Oh, yes. But that's when the store was new." "Make it new again," cried Janice, feeling a good deal as though she would like to shake this hopeless man. Hopewell, indeed! His name surely did not fit him in the least. Wasn't old Mrs. Scattergood almost right when she called him "a gump"? At least, if "gump" meant a spineless creature? Drugg was looking languidly about the store in the dim, brown light. Outside the rain still fell heavily. Occasionally the clouds would lighten for a moment as they frequently do in the hills; but the rain was still behind them and _would_ burst through. "Come, Mr. Drugg," said Janice, more softly. "Let me show you what I mean. You can't really expect folks to come here and trade when they can scarcely see through the windows----" "Yes, yes," he murmured. "I _had_ ought to clean up a bit." "More than that!" she cried. "You want to have a regular overhauling--take account of stock, and all that--know what you've got--arrange your goods attractively--get rid of the flies--put on fresh paint----" He was looking at her with wide-open eyes. "My soul!" he breathed. "How'd I ever git around to doin' all _that_?" "You love little Lottie, don't you?" Janice demanded, with sudden cruelty. "I should think you'd be willing to do something for her!" "What do you mean?" and a little snap, which delighted Janice, suddenly came into Drugg's tone. "Just what I say, Mr. Drugg. You _speak_ as though you loved her." "And who says I don't?" "Your actions." "My actions? What do you mean by that?" and the man flushed more deeply than before.