It is one of those wooden structures--I don't know whether you know
them--with a false front that sticks up above its real height and
gives it an air at once rectangular and imposing. It is a form of
architecture much used in Mariposa and understood to be in keeping
with the pretentious and artificial character of modern business.
There is a red, white and blue post in front of the shop and the shop
itself has a large square window out of proportion to its little flat
face.

Painted on the panes of the window is the remains of a legend that
once spelt BARBER SHOP, executed with the flourishes that prevailed
in the golden age of sign painting in Mariposa. Through the window
you can see the geraniums in the window shelf and behind them Jeff
Thorpe with his little black scull cap on and his spectacles drooped
upon his nose as he bends forward in the absorption of shaving.

As you open the door, it sets in violent agitation a coiled spring up
above and a bell that almost rings. Inside, there are two shaving
chairs of the heavier, or electrocution pattern, with mirrors in
front of them and pigeon holes with individual shaving mugs. There
must be ever so many of them, fifteen or sixteen. It is the current
supposition of each of Jeff's customers that everyone else but
himself uses a separate mug. One corner of the shop is partitioned
off and bears the sign: HOT AND COLD BATHS, 50 CENTS. There has been
no bath inside the partition for twenty years--only old newspapers
and a mop. Still, it lends distinction somehow, just as do the faded
cardboard signs that hang against the mirror with the legends:
TURKISH SHAMPOO, 75 CENTS, and ROMAN MASSAGE, $1.00.

They said commonly in Mariposa that Jeff made money out of the barber