"I dunno. He could tell you."
I went out of the thick-aired stuffy backroom with its unwashed windows, and when I got opposite the Bible near the door I said:
"What's the matter with him anyhow? Why doesn't he straighten things out here?"
Again the clerk awoke. "Huh!" he exclaimed. "Straighten it out! Gar! I'd like to see anybody try it."
"It could be," I said encouragingly.
"Gar!" he chuckled. "One man did try to straighten it out once when Mr. Burridge was away. Got about a third of it cleaned up when he come back. Gar! You oughta seen him! Gar!"
"What did he do?"
"What did he do! What didn't he do! Gar! Just took things an' threw them about again. Said he couldn't find anything."
"You don't say!"
"Gar! I should say so! Man come in an' asked for a hammer. Said he couldn't find any hammer, things was so mixed up. Did it with screws, water-buckets an' everything just the same. Took 'em right off the shelves, where they was all in groups, an' scattered 'em all over the room. Gar! 'Now I guess I can find something when I want it,' he said." The clerk paused to squint and add, "There ain't anybody tried any straightenin' out around here since then, you bet. Gar!"