To be shut out was worse than the blow.
He did not take the trouble to arise from the wet leaves covering the cold earth, but closing his eyes went to sleep.
The man leaned against the door and ran his fingers through his hair as he anathematized the dog.

Slowly his eyes travelled around the room.

He saw his tumbled bed by the open window facing the lake, the small table with his writing material, the crude rack on the wall loaded with medical works, botanies, drug encyclopaedias, the books of the few authors who interested him, and the bare, muck-tracked floor.

He went to the kitchen, where he built a fire in the cook stove, and to the smoke-house, from which he returned with a slice of ham and some eggs.
He set some potatoes boiling and took bread, butter and milk from the pantry.

Then he laid a small note-book on the table before him and studied the transactions of the day.
10 lbs.