George Willard was older than Seth Richmond, but in the rather odd friendship between the two, it was he who was forever courting and the younger boy who was being courted.
The idea that George Willard would some day be- come a writer had given him a place of distinction in Winesburg, and to Seth Richmond he talked con- tinually of the matter, "It's the easiest of all lives to live," he declared, becoming excited and boastful.
In George Willard's room, which had a window looking down into an alleyway and one that looked across railroad tracks to Biff Carter's Lunch Room facing the railroad station, Seth Richmond sat in a chair and looked at the floor.
A wave of resentment directed against his friend, the men of the town who were, he thought, perpet- ually talking of nothing, and most of all, against his own habit of silence, made Seth half desperate.
If George Willard were here, he'd have something to say," thought Seth.
It was Helen White who came to the door and found Seth standing at the edge of the porch.
Happen ye can tell me, Seth, if so be as I shouldna come up i' time for't.
There was a laugh at this thrust of Adam's, but Seth said, very seriously.
Nay, Seth, lad; I'm not for laughing at no man's religion.
There's reason in what thee say'st, Adam," observed Seth, gravely.
But it isna religion as was i' fault there; it was Seth Bede, as was allays a wool-gathering chap, and religion hasna cured him, the more's the pity.
Ne'er heed me, Seth," said Wiry Ben, "y' are a down-right good- hearted chap, panels or no panels; an' ye donna set up your bristles at every bit o' fun, like some o' your kin, as is mayhap cliverer.