Lovell," said one.
"We can't do without you," asserted another.
"You'll not give up altogether," pleaded a third, almost coaxingly.
But Andy Lovell was tired of working without any heart in his work;
and more tired of the constant fret and worry attendant upon a
business in which his mind had ceased to feel interest. So he kept
to his resolution, and went on with his arrangements for closing the
shop.
"What are you going to do?" asked a neighbor.
"Do?" Andy looked, in some surprise, at his interrogator.
"Yes. What are you going to do? A man in good health, at your time
of life, can't be idle. Rust will eat him up."
"Rust?" Andy looked slightly bewildered.
"What's this?" asked the neighbor, taking something from Andy's
counter.
"An old knife," was the reply. "It dropped out of the window two or
three months ago and was lost. I picked it up this morning."
"It's in a sorry condition," said the neighbor. "Half eaten up with
rust, and good for nothing."
"And yet," replied the shoemaker, "there was better stuff in that
knife, before it was lost, than in any other knife in the shop."
"Better than in this?" And the neighbor lifted a clean, sharp-edged
knife from Andy's cutting-board.
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