Even Lyman Teaford managed his thriving flour and feed business, with a butter and eggs and farm produce department, in the garments of a gentleman.

True, he often worked with his coat off, but he removed his cuffs and carefully protected the sleeves of his white shirt with calico oversleeves held in place by neat elastics.

Once away from the store he might have been anybody--even a banker.
Winona sought to enlist Lyman's help in the matter of Wilbur's future.
Lyman was flaccid in the matter.

The boy had once stolen into the Penniman parlour while Lyman and Winona were out rifling the ice box of delicacies, and enticed by the glitter of Lyman's flute had thrillingly taken it into his hands to see what made it go, dropping it in his panic, from the centre table to the floor, when he heard their returning steps.

Lyman had never felt the same toward Wilbur after that.