"Talkin' to his ole se'f!" the first explained, joyously. "Look
like gone distracted--ole glue man!"

Adams's legs had grown more uncertain with his hard walk, and he
stumbled heavily as he crossed the baked mud of his broad lot,
but cared little for that, was almost unaware of it, in fact.
Thus his eyes saw as little as his body felt, and so he failed to
observe something that would have given him additional light upon
an old phrase that already meant quite enough for him.

There are in the wide world people who have never learned its
meaning; but most are either young or beautifully unobservant who
remain wholly unaware of the inner poignancies the words convey:
"a rain of misfortunes." It is a boiling rain, seemingly
whimsical in its choice of spots whereon to fall; and, so far as
mortal eye can tell, neither the just nor the unjust may hope to
avoid it, or need worry themselves by expecting it. It had
selected the Adams family for its scaldings; no question.

The glue-works foreman, standing in the doorway of the brick
shed, observed his employer's eccentric approach, and doubtfully
stroked a whiskered chin.

"Well, they ain't no putticular use gettin' so upset over it," he
said, as Adams came up. "When a thing happens, why, it happens,
and that's all there is to it. When a thing's so, why, it's so.
All you can do about it is think if there's anything you CAN do;
and that's what you better be doin' with this case."