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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5311-h.zip b/5311-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9b3198c --- /dev/null +++ b/5311-h.zip diff --git a/5311-h/5311-h.htm b/5311-h/5311-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..444695c --- /dev/null +++ b/5311-h/5311-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5007 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + Parnassus on Wheels, by Christopher Morley + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Parnassus on Wheels, by Christopher Morley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Parnassus on Wheels + +Author: Christopher Morley + +Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5311] +First Posted: June 29, 2002 +Last Updated: May 16, 2019 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARNASSUS ON WHEELS *** + + +Etext produced by Andrew Sly + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + PARNASSUS ON WHEELS + </h1> + <h2> + By Christopher Morley + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + To H.B.F. and H.F.M. "Trusty, dusky, vivid, true" + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + A LETTER TO David Grayson, Esq. OF HEMPFIELD, U.S.A. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR SIR, + </p> + <p> + Although my name appears on the title page, the real author of this book + is Miss Helen McGill (now Mrs. Roger Mifflin), who told me the story with + her own inimitable vivacity. And on her behalf I want to send to you these + few words of acknowledgment. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mifflin, I need hardly say, is unskilled in the arts of authorship: + this is her first book, and I doubt whether she will ever write another. + She hardly realized, I think, how much her story owes to your own + delightful writings. There used to be a well-thumbed copy of "Adventures + in Contentment" on her table at the Sabine Farm, and I have seen her pick + it up, after a long day in the kitchen, read it with chuckles, and say + that the story of you and Harriet reminded her of herself and Andrew. She + used to mutter something about "Adventures in Discontentment" and ask why + Harriet's side of the matter was never told? And so when her own adventure + came to pass, and she was urged to put it on paper, I think she + unconsciously adopted something of the manner and matter that you have + made properly yours. + </p> + <p> + Surely, sir, you will not disown so innocent a tribute! At any rate, Miss + Harriet Grayson, whose excellent qualities we have all so long admired, + will find in Mrs. Mifflin a kindred spirit. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mifflin would have said this for herself, with her characteristic + definiteness of speech, had she not been out of touch with her publishers + and foolscap paper. She and the Professor are on their Parnassus, + somewhere on the high roads, happily engrossed in the most godly diversion + known to man—selling books. And I venture to think that there are no + volumes they take more pleasure in recommending than the wholesome and + invigorating books which bear your name. + </p> + <p> + Believe me, dear Mr. Grayson, with warm regards, + </p> + <p> + Faithfully yours, CHRISTOPHER MORLEY. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FIVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER SIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER SEVEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER EIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER NINE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER TEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER ELEVEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER TWELVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER THIRTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER FOURTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER FIFTEEN </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE + </h2> + <p> + I wonder if there isn't a lot of bunkum in higher education? I never found + that people who were learned in logarithms and other kinds of poetry were + any quicker in washing dishes or darning socks. I've done a good deal of + reading when I could, and I don't want to "admit impediments" to the love + of books, but I've also seen lots of good, practical folk spoiled by too + much fine print. Reading sonnets always gives me hiccups, too. + </p> + <p> + I never expected to be an author! But I do think there are some amusing + things about the story of Andrew and myself and how books broke up our + placid life. When John Gutenberg, whose real name (so the Professor says) + was John Gooseflesh, borrowed that money to set up his printing press he + launched a lot of troubles on the world. + </p> + <p> + Andrew and I were wonderfully happy on the farm until he became an author. + If I could have foreseen all the bother his writings were to cause us, I + would certainly have burnt the first manuscript in the kitchen stove. + </p> + <p> + Andrew McGill, the author of those books every one reads, is my brother. + In other words, I am his sister, ten years younger. Years ago Andrew was a + business man, but his health failed and, like so many people in the story + books, he fled to the country, or, as he called it, to the bosom of + Nature. He and I were the only ones left in an unsuccessful family. I was + slowly perishing as a conscientious governess in the brownstone region of + New York. He rescued me from that and we bought a farm with our combined + savings. We became real farmers, up with the sun and to bed with the same. + Andrew wore overalls and a soft shirt and grew brown and tough. My hands + got red and blue with soapsuds and frost; I never saw a Redfern + advertisement from one year's end to another, and my kitchen was a + battlefield where I set my teeth and learned to love hard work. Our + literature was government agriculture reports, patent medicine almanacs, + seedsmen's booklets, and Sears Roebuck catalogues. We subscribed to Farm + and Fireside and read the serials aloud. Every now and then, for real + excitement, we read something stirring in the Old Testament—that + cheery book Jeremiah, for instance, of which Andrew was very fond. The + farm did actually prosper, after a while; and Andrew used to hang over the + pasture bars at sunset, and tell, from the way his pipe burned, just what + the weather would be the next day. + </p> + <p> + As I have said, we were tremendously happy until Andrew got the fatal idea + of telling the world how happy we were. I am sorry to have to admit he had + always been rather a bookish man. In his college days he had edited the + students' magazine, and sometimes he would get discontented with the Farm + and Fireside serials and pull down his bound volumes of the college paper. + He would read me some of his youthful poems and stories and mutter vaguely + about writing something himself some day. I was more concerned with + sitting hens than with sonnets and I'm bound to say I never took these + threats very seriously. I should have been more severe. + </p> + <p> + Then great-uncle Philip died, and his carload of books came to us. He had + been a college professor, and years ago when Andrew was a boy Uncle Philip + had been very fond of him—had, in fact, put him through college. We + were the only near relatives, and all those books turned up one fine day. + That was the beginning of the end, if I had only known it. Andrew had the + time of his life building shelves all round our living-room; not content + with that he turned the old hen house into a study for himself, put in a + stove, and used to sit up there evenings after I had gone to bed. The + first thing I knew he called the place Sabine Farm (although it had been + known for years as Bog Hollow) because he thought it a literary thing to + do. He used to take a book along with him when he drove over to Redfield + for supplies; sometimes the wagon would be two hours late coming home, + with old Ben loafing along between the shafts and Andrew lost in his book. + </p> + <p> + I didn't think much of all this, but I'm an easy-going woman and as long + as Andrew kept the farm going I had plenty to do on my own hook. Hot bread + and coffee, eggs and preserves for breakfast; soup and hot meat, + vegetables, dumplings, gravy, brown bread and white, huckleberry pudding, + chocolate cake and buttermilk for dinner; muffins, tea, sausage rolls, + blackberries and cream, and doughnuts for supper—that's the kind of + menu I had been preparing three times a day for years. I hadn't any time + to worry about what wasn't my business. + </p> + <p> + And then one morning I caught Andrew doing up a big, flat parcel for the + postman. He looked so sheepish I just had to ask what it was. + </p> + <p> + "I've written a book," said Andrew, and he showed me the title page— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PARADISE REGAINED + BY + ANDREW McGILL +</pre> + <p> + Even then I wasn't much worried, because of course I knew no one would + print it. But Lord! a month or so later came a letter from a publisher—accepting + it! That's the letter Andrew keeps framed above his desk. Just to show how + such things sound I'll copy it here: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DECAMERON, JONES AND COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + UNION SQUARE, NEW YORK + + January 13, 1907. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MR. McGILL: + </p> + <p> + We have read with singular pleasure your manuscript "Paradise Regained." + There is no doubt in our minds that so spirited an account of the joys of + sane country living should meet with popular approval, and, with the + exception of a few revisions and abbreviations, we would be glad to + publish the book practically as it stands. We would like to have it + illustrated by Mr. Tortoni, some of whose work you may have seen, and + would be glad to know whether he may call upon you in order to acquaint + himself with the local colour of your neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + We would be glad to pay you a royalty of 10 percent upon the retail price + of the book, and we enclose duplicate contracts for your signature in case + this proves satisfactory to you. + </p> + <p> + Believe us, etc., etc., + </p> + <h3> + DECAMERON, JONES & CO. + </h3> + <p> + I have since thought that "Paradise Lost" would have been a better title + for that book. It was published in the autumn of 1907, and since that time + our life has never been the same. By some mischance the book became the + success of the season; it was widely commended as "a gospel of health and + sanity" and Andrew received, in almost every mail, offers from publishers + and magazine editors who wanted to get hold of his next book. It is almost + incredible to what stratagems publishers will descend to influence an + author. Andrew had written in "Paradise Regained" of the tramps who visit + us, how quaint and appealing some of them are (let me add, how dirty), and + how we never turn away any one who seems worthy. Would you believe that, + in the spring after the book was published, a disreputable-looking + vagabond with a knapsack, who turned up one day, blarneyed Andrew about + his book and stayed overnight, announced himself at breakfast as a leading + New York publisher? He had chosen this ruse in order to make Andrew's + acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + You can imagine that it didn't take long for Andrew to become spoiled at + this rate! The next year he suddenly disappeared, leaving only a note on + the kitchen table, and tramped all over the state for six weeks collecting + material for a new book. I had all I could do to keep him from going to + New York to talk to editors and people of that sort. Envelopes of + newspaper cuttings used to come to him, and he would pore over them when + he ought to have been ploughing corn. Luckily the mail man comes along + about the middle of the morning when Andrew is out in the fields, so I + used to look over the letters before he saw them. After the second book + ("Happiness and Hayseed" it was called) was printed, letters from + publishers got so thick that I used to put them all in the stove before + Andrew saw them—except those from the Decameron Jones people, which + sometimes held checks. Literary folk used to turn up now and then to + interview Andrew, but generally I managed to head them off. + </p> + <p> + But Andrew got to be less and less of a farmer and more and more of a + literary man. He bought a typewriter. He would hang over the pigpen noting + down adjectives for the sunset instead of mending the weather vane on the + barn which took a slew so that the north wind came from the southwest. He + hardly ever looked at the Sears Roebuck catalogues any more, and after Mr. + Decameron came to visit us and suggested that Andrew write a book of + country poems, the man became simply unbearable. + </p> + <p> + And all the time I was counting eggs and turning out three meals a day, + and running the farm when Andrew got a literary fit and would go off on + some vagabond jaunt to collect adventures for a new book. (I wish you + could have seen the state he was in when he came back from these trips, + hoboing it along the roads without any money or a clean sock to his back. + One time he returned with a cough you could hear the other side of the + barn, and I had to nurse him for three weeks.) When somebody wrote a + little booklet about "The Sage of Redfield" and described me as a "rural + Xantippe" and "the domestic balance-wheel that kept the great writer close + to the homely realities of life" I made up my mind to give Andrew some of + his own medicine. And that's my story. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO + </h2> + <p> + It was a fine, crisp morning in fall—October I dare say—and I + was in the kitchen coring apples for apple sauce. We were going to have + roast pork for dinner with boiled potatoes and what Andrew calls Vandyke + brown gravy. Andrew had driven over to town to get some flour and feed and + wouldn't be back till noontime. + </p> + <p> + Being a Monday, Mrs. McNally, the washerwoman, had come over to take care + of the washing. I remember I was just on my way out to the wood pile for a + few sticks of birch when I heard wheels turn in at the gate. There was one + of the fattest white horses I ever saw, and a queer wagon, shaped like a + van. A funny-looking little man with a red beard leaned forward from the + seat and said something. I didn't hear what it was, I was looking at that + preposterous wagon of his. + </p> + <p> + It was coloured a pale, robin's-egg blue, and on the side, in big scarlet + letters, was painted: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + R. MIFFLIN'S + TRAVELLING PARNASSUS + GOOD BOOKS FOR SALE + SHAKESPEARE, CHARLES LAMB, R.L.S. + HAZLITT, AND ALL OTHERS +</pre> + <p> + Underneath the wagon, in slings, hung what looked like a tent, together + with a lantern, a bucket, and other small things. The van had a raised + skylight on the roof, something like an old-fashioned trolley car; and + from one corner went up a stove pipe. At the back was a door with little + windows on each side and a flight of steps leading up to it. + </p> + <p> + As I stood looking at this queer turnout, the little reddish man climbed + down from in front and stood watching me. His face was a comic mixture of + pleasant drollery and a sort of weather-beaten cynicism. He had a neat + little russet beard and a shabby Norfolk jacket. His head was very bald. + </p> + <p> + "Is this where Andrew McGill lives?" he said. + </p> + <p> + I admitted it. + </p> + <p> + "But he's away until noon," I added. "He'll be back then. There's roast + pork for dinner." + </p> + <p> + "And apple sauce?" said the little man. + </p> + <p> + "Apple sauce and brown gravy," I said. "That's why I'm sure he'll be home + on time. Sometimes he's late when there's boiled dinner, but never on + roast pork days. Andrew would never do for a rabbi." + </p> + <p> + A sudden suspicion struck me. + </p> + <p> + "You're not another publisher, are you?" I cried. "What do you want with + Andrew?" + </p> + <p> + "I was wondering whether he wouldn't buy this outfit," said the little + man, including, with a wave of the hand, both van and white horse. As he + spoke he released a hook somewhere, and raised the whole side of his wagon + like a flap. Some kind of catch clicked, the flap remained up like a roof, + displaying nothing but books—rows and rows of them. The flank of his + van was nothing but a big bookcase. Shelves stood above shelves, all of + them full of books—both old and new. As I stood gazing, he pulled + out a printed card from somewhere and gave it to me: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ROGER MIFFLIN'S + TRAVELLING PARNASSUS + + Worthy friends, my wain doth hold + Many a book, both new and old; + Books, the truest friends of man, + Fill this rolling caravan. + Books to satisfy all uses, + Golden lyrics of the Muses, + Books on cookery and farming, + Novels passionate and charming, + Every kind for every need + So that he who buys may read. + What librarian can surpass us? + + MIFFLIN'S TRAVELLING PARNASSUS + + By R. Mifflin, Prop'r. + + Star Job Print, Celeryville, Va. +</pre> + <p> + While I was chuckling over this, he had raised a similar flap on the other + side of the Parnassus which revealed still more shelves loaded with books. + </p> + <p> + I'm afraid I am severely practical by nature. + </p> + <p> + "Well!" I said, "I should think you <i>would</i> need a pretty stout steed + to lug that load along. It must weigh more than a coal wagon." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Peg can manage it all right," he said. "We don't travel very fast. + But look here, I want to sell out. Do you suppose your husband would buy + the outfit—Parnassus, Pegasus, and all? He's fond of books, isn't + he? + </p> + <p> + "Hold on a minute!" I said. "Andrew's my brother, not my husband, and he's + altogether <i>too</i> fond of books. Books'll be the ruin of this farm + pretty soon. He's mooning about over his books like a sitting hen about + half the time, when he ought to be mending harness. Lord, if he saw this + wagonload of yours he'd be unsettled for a week. I have to stop the + postman down the road and take all the publishers' catalogues out of the + mail so that Andrew don't see 'em. I'm mighty glad he's not here just now, + I can tell you!" + </p> + <p> + I'm not literary, as I said before, but I'm human enough to like a good + book, and my eye was running along those shelves of his as I spoke. He + certainly had a pretty miscellaneous collection. I noticed poetry, essays, + novels, cook books, juveniles, school books, Bibles, and what not—all + jumbled together. + </p> + <p> + "Well, see here," said the little man—and about this time I noticed + that he had the bright eyes of a fanatic—"I've been cruising with + this Parnassus going on seven years. I've covered the territory from + Florida to Maine and I reckon I've injected about as much good literature + into the countryside as ever old Doc Eliot did with his five-foot shelf. I + want to sell out now. I'm going to write a book about 'Literature Among + the Farmers,' and want to settle down with my brother in Brooklyn and + write it. I've got a sackful of notes for it. I guess I'll just stick + around until Mr. McGill gets home and see if he won't buy me out. I'll + sell the whole concern, horse, wagon, and books, for $400. I've read + Andrew McGill's stuff and I reckon the proposition'll interest him. I've + had more fun with this Parnassus than a barrel of monkeys. I used to be a + school teacher till my health broke down. Then I took this up and I've + made more than expenses and had the time of my life." + </p> + <p> + "Well, Mr. Mifflin," I said, "if you want to stay around I guess I can't + stop you. But I'm sorry you and your old Parnassus ever came this way." + </p> + <p> + I turned on my heel and went back to the kitchen. I knew pretty well that + Andrew would go up in the air when he saw that wagonload of books and one + of those crazy cards with Mr. Mifflin's poetry on it. + </p> + <p> + I must confess that I was considerably upset. Andrew is just as + unpractical and fanciful as a young girl, and always dreaming of new + adventures and rambles around the country. If he ever saw that travelling + Parnassus he'd fall for it like snap. And I knew Mr. Decameron was after + him for a new book anyway. (I'd intercepted one of his letters suggesting + another "Happiness and Hayseed" trip just a few weeks before. Andrew was + away when the letter came. I had a suspicion what was in it; so I opened + it, read it, and—well, burnt it. Heavens! as though Andrew didn't + have enough to do without mooning down the road like a tinker, just to + write a book about it.) + </p> + <p> + As I worked around the kitchen I could see Mr. Mifflin making himself at + home. He unhitched his horse, tied her up to the fence, sat down by the + wood pile, and lit a pipe. I could see I was in for it. By and by I + couldn't stand it any longer. I went out to talk to that bald-headed + pedlar. + </p> + <p> + "See here," I said. "You're a pretty cool fish to make yourself so easy in + my yard. I tell you I don't want you around here, you and your travelling + parcheesi. Suppose you clear out of here before my brother gets back and + don't be breaking up our happy family." + </p> + <p> + "Miss McGill," he said (the man had a pleasant way with him, too—darn + him—with his bright, twinkling eye and his silly little beard), "I'm + sure I don't want to be discourteous. If you move me on from here, of + course I'll go; but I warn you I shall lie in wait for Mr. McGill just + down this road. I'm here to sell this caravan of culture, and by the bones + of Swinburne I think your brother's the man to buy it." + </p> + <p> + My blood was up now, and I'll admit that I said my next without proper + calculation. + </p> + <p> + "Rather than have Andrew buy your old parcheesi," I said, "I'll buy it + myself. I'll give you $300 for it." + </p> + <p> + The little man's face brightened. He didn't either accept or decline my + offer. (I was frightened to death that he'd take me right on the nail and + bang would go my three years' savings for a Ford.) + </p> + <p> + "Come and have another look at her," he said. + </p> + <p> + I must admit that Mr. Roger Mifflin had fixed up his van mighty + comfortably inside. The body of the wagon was built out on each side over + the wheels, which gave it an unwieldy appearance but made extra room for + the bookshelves. This left an inside space about five feet wide and nine + long. On one side he had a little oil stove, a flap table, and a + cozy-looking bunk above which was built a kind of chest of drawers—to + hold clothes and such things, I suppose; on the other side more + bookshelves, a small table, and a little wicker easy chair. Every possible + inch of space seemed to be made useful in some way, for a shelf or a hook + or a hanging cupboard or something. Above the stove was a neat little row + of pots and dishes and cooking usefuls. The raised skylight made it just + possible to stand upright in the centre aisle of the van; and a little + sliding window opened onto the driver's seat in front. Altogether it was a + very neat affair. The windows in front and back were curtained and a pot + of geraniums stood on a diminutive shelf. I was amused to see a sandy + Irish terrier curled up on a bright Mexican blanket in the bunk. + </p> + <p> + "Miss McGill," he said, "I couldn't sell Parnassus for less than four + hundred. I've put twice that much into her, one time and another. She's + built clean and solid all through, and there's everything a man would need + from blankets to bouillon cubes. The whole thing's yours for $400—including + dog, cook stove, and everything—jib, boom, and spanker. There's a + tent in a sling underneath, and an ice box (he pulled up a little trap + door under the bunk) and a tank of coal oil and Lord knows what all. She's + as good as a yacht; but I'm tired of her. If you're so afraid of your + brother taking a fancy to her, why don't you buy her yourself and go off + on a lark? Make <i>him</i> stay home and mind the farm!... Tell you what + I'll do. I'll start you on the road myself, come with you the first day + and show you how it's worked. You could have the time of your life in this + thing, and give yourself a fine vacation. It would give your brother a + good surprise, too. Why not?" + </p> + <p> + I don't know whether it was the neatness of his absurd little van, or the + madness of the whole proposition, or just the desire to have an adventure + of my own and play a trick on Andrew, but anyway, some extraordinary + impulse seized me and I roared with laughter. + </p> + <p> + "Right!" I said. "I'll do it." + </p> + <p> + I, Helen McGill, in the thirty-ninth year of my age! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE + </h2> + <p> + "Well," I thought, "if I'm in for an adventure I may as well be spry about + it. Andrew'll be home by half-past twelve and if I'm going to give him the + slip I'd better get a start. I suppose he'll think I'm crazy! He'll follow + me, I guess. Well, he just shan't catch me, that's all!" A kind of anger + came over me to think that I'd been living on that farm for nearly fifteen + years—yes, sir, ever since I was twenty-five—and hardly ever + been away except for that trip to Boston once a year to go shopping with + cousin Edie. I'm a home-keeping soul, I guess, and I love my kitchen and + my preserve cupboard and my linen closet as well as grandmother ever did, + but something in that blue October air and that crazy little red-bearded + man just tickled me. + </p> + <p> + "Look here, Mr. Parnassus," I said, "I guess I'm a fat old fool but I just + believe I'll do that. You hitch up your horse and van and I'll go pack + some clothes and write you a check. It'll do Andrew all the good in the + world to have me skip. I'll get a chance to read a few books, too. It'll + be as good as going to college!" And I untied my apron and ran for the + house. The little man stood leaning against a corner of the van as if he + were stupefied. I dare say he was. + </p> + <p> + I ran into the house through the front door, and it struck me as comical + to see a copy of one of Andrew's magazines lying on the living-room table + with "The Revolt of Womanhood" printed across it in red letters. "Here + goes for the revolt of Helen McGill," I thought. I sat down at Andrew's + desk, pushed aside a pad of notes he had been jotting down about "the + magic of autumn," and scrawled a few lines: + </p> + <h3> + DEAR ANDREW, + </h3> + <p> + Don't be thinking I'm crazy. I've gone off for an adventure. It just came + over me that you've had all the adventures while I've been at home baking + bread. Mrs. McNally will look after your meals and one of her girls can + come over to do the housework. So don't worry. I'm going off for a little + while—a month, maybe—to see some of this happiness and hayseed + of yours. It's what the magazines call the revolt of womanhood. Warm + underwear in the cedar chest in the spare room when you need it. With + love, HELEN. + </p> + <p> + I left the note on his desk. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. McNally was bending over the tubs in the laundry. I could see only + the broad arch of her back and hear the vigorous zzzzzzz of her rubbing. + She straightened up at my call. + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. McNally," I said, "I'm going away for a little trip. You'd better + let the washing go until this afternoon and get Andrew's dinner for him. + He'll be back about twelve-thirty. It's half-past ten now. You tell him + I've gone over to see Mrs. Collins at Locust Farm." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. McNally is a brawny, slow-witted Swede. "All right Mis' McGill," she + said. "You be back to denner?" + </p> + <p> + "No, I'm not coming back for a month," I said. "I'm going away for a trip. + I want you to send Rosie over here every day to do the housework while I'm + away. You can arrange with Mr. McGill about that. I've got to hurry now." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. McNally's honest eyes, as blue as Copenhagen china, gazing through + the window in perplexity, fell upon the travelling Parnassus and Mr. + Mifflin backing Pegasus into the shafts. I saw her make a valiant effort + to comprehend the sign painted on the side of the van—and give it + up. + </p> + <p> + "You going driving?" she said blankly. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," I said, and fled upstairs. + </p> + <p> + I always keep my bank book in an old Huyler box in the top drawer of my + bureau. I don't save very quickly, I'm afraid. I have a little income from + some money father left me, but Andrew takes care of that. Andrew pays all + the farm expenses, but the housekeeping accounts fall to me. I make a + fairish amount of pin money on my poultry and some of my preserves that I + send to Boston, and on some recipes of mine that I send to a woman's + magazine now and then; but generally my savings don't amount to much over + $10 a month. In the last five years I had put by something more than $600. + I had been saving up for a Ford. But just now it looked to me as if that + Parnassus would be more fun than a Ford ever could be. Four hundred + dollars was a lot of money, but I thought of what it would mean to have + Andrew come home and buy it. Why, he'd be away until Thanksgiving! Whereas + if I bought it I could take it away, have my adventure, and sell it + somewhere so that Andrew never need see it. I hardened my heart and + determined to give the Sage of Redfield some of his own medicine. + </p> + <p> + My balance at the Redfield National Bank was $615.20. I sat down at the + table in my bedroom where I keep my accounts and wrote out a check to + Roger Mifflin for $400. I put in plenty of curlicues after the figures so + that no one could raise the check into $400,000; then I got out my old + rattan suit case and put in some clothes. The whole business didn't take + me ten minutes. I came downstairs to find Mrs. McNally looking sourly at + the Parnassus from the kitchen door. + </p> + <p> + "You going away in that—that 'bus, Mis' McGill?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Mrs. McNally," I said cheerfully. Her use of the word gave me an + inspiration. "That's one of the new jitney 'buses we hear about. He's + going to take me to the station. Don't you worry about me. I'm going for a + holiday. You get Mr. McGill's dinner ready for him. After dinner tell him + there's a note for him in the living-room." + </p> + <p> + "I tank that bane a queer 'bus," said Mrs. McNally, puzzled. I think the + excellent woman suspected an elopement. + </p> + <p> + I carried my suit case out to the Parnassus. Pegasus stood placidly + between the shafts. From within came sounds of vigorous movement. In a + moment the little man burst out with a bulging portmanteau in his hand. He + had a tweed cap slanted on the back of his head. + </p> + <p> + "There!" he cried triumphantly. "I've packed all my personal effects—clothes + and so on—and everything else goes with the transaction. When I get + on the train with this bag I'm a free man, and hurrah for Brooklyn! Lord, + won't I be glad to get back to the city! I lived in Brooklyn once, and I + haven't been back there for ten years," he added plaintively. + </p> + <p> + "Here's the check," I said, handing it to him. He flushed a little, and + looked at me rather shamefacedly. "See here," he said, "I hope you're not + making a bad bargain? I don't want to take advantage of a lady. If you + think your brother...." + </p> + <p> + "I was going to buy a Ford, anyway," I said, "and it looks to me as though + this parcheesi of yours would be cheaper to run than any flivver that ever + came out of Detroit. I want to keep it away from Andrew and that's the + main thing. You give me a receipt and we'll get away from here before he + comes back." + </p> + <p> + He took the check without a word, hoisted his fat portmanteau on the + driver's seat, and then disappeared in the van. In a minute he reappeared. + On the back of one of his poetical cards he had written: + </p> + <p> + Received from Miss McGill the sum of four hundred dollars in exchange for + one Travelling Parnassus in first class condition, delivered to her this + day, October 3rd, 19—. + </p> + <p> + Signed ROGER MIFFLIN. + </p> + <p> + "Tell me," I said, "does your Parnassus—<i>my</i> Parnassus, rather—contain + everything I'm likely to need? Is it stocked up with food and so on?" + </p> + <p> + "I was coming to that," he said. "You'll find a fair supply of stuff in + the cupboard over the stove, though I used to get most of my meals at + farmhouses along the road. I generally read aloud to people as I go along, + and they're often good for a free meal. It's amazing how little most of + the country folk know about books, and how pleased they are to hear good + stuff. Down in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania...." + </p> + <p> + "Well, how about the horse?" I said hastily, seeing him about to embark on + an anecdote. It wasn't far short of eleven o'clock, and I was anxious to + get started. + </p> + <p> + "It might be well to take along some oats. My supply's about exhausted." + </p> + <p> + I filled a sack with oats in the stable and Mr. Mifflin showed me where to + hang it under the van. Then in the kitchen I loaded a big basket with + provisions for an emergency: a dozen eggs, a jar of sliced bacon, butter, + cheese, condensed milk, tea, biscuits, jam, and two loaves of bread. These + Mr. Mifflin stowed inside the van, Mrs. McNally watching in amazement. + </p> + <p> + "I tank this bane a queer picnic!" she said. "Which way are you going? Mr. + McGill, is he coming after you?" + </p> + <p> + "No," I insisted, "he's not coming. I'm going off on a holiday. You get + dinner for him and he won't worry about anything until after that. Tell + him I've gone over to see Mrs. Collins." + </p> + <p> + I climbed the little steps and entered my Parnassus with a pleasant thrill + of ownership. The terrier on the bunk jumped to the floor with a friendly + wag of the tail. I piled the bunk with bedding and blankets of my own, + shook out the drawers which fitted above the bunk, and put into them what + few belongings I was taking with me. And we were ready to start. + </p> + <p> + Redbeard was already sitting in front with the reins in hand. I climbed up + beside him. The front seat was broad but uncushioned, well sheltered by + the peak of the van. I gave a quick glance around at the comfortable house + under its elms and maples—saw the big, red barn shining in the sun + and the pump under the grape arbour. I waved good-bye to Mrs. McNally who + was watching us in silent amazement. Pegasus threw her solid weight + against the traces and Parnassus swung round and rolled past the gate. We + turned into the Redfield road. + </p> + <p> + "Here," said Mifflin, handing me the reins, "you're skipper, you'd better + drive. Which way do you want to go?" + </p> + <p> + My breath came a little fast when I realized that my adventure had begun! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h2> + <p> + Just out of sight of the farm the road forks, one way running on to Walton + where you cross the river by a covered bridge, the other swinging down + toward Greenbriar and Port Vigor. Mrs. Collins lives a mile or so up the + Walton road, and as I very often run over to see her I thought Andrew + would be most likely to look for me there. So, after we had passed through + the grove, I took the right-hand turn to Greenbriar. We began the long + ascent over Huckleberry Hill and as I smelt the fresh autumn odour of the + leaves I chuckled a little. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mifflin seemed in a perfect ecstasy of high spirits. "This is + certainly grand," he said. "Lord, I applaud your spunk. Do you think Mr. + McGill will give chase?" + </p> + <p> + "I haven't an idea," I said. "Not right away, anyhow. He's so used to my + settled ways that I don't think he'll suspect anything till he finds my + note. I wonder what kind of story Mrs. McNally will tell!" + </p> + <p> + "How about putting him off the scent?" he said. "Give me your + handkerchief." + </p> + <p> + I did so. He hopped nimbly out, ran back down the hill (he was a spry + little person in spite of his bald crown), and dropped the handkerchief on + the Walton Road about a hundred feet beyond the fork. Then he followed me + up the slope. + </p> + <p> + "There," he said, grinning like a kid, "that'll fool him. The Sage of + Redfield will undoubtedly follow a false spoor and the criminals will win + a good start. But I'm afraid it's rather easy to follow a craft as unusual + as Parnassus." + </p> + <p> + "Tell me how you manage the thing," I said. "Do you really make it pay?" + We halted at the top of the hill to give Pegasus a breathing space. The + terrier lay down in the dust and watched us gravely. Mr. Mifflin pulled + out a pipe and begged my permission to smoke. + </p> + <p> + "It's rather comical how I first got into it," he said. "I was a school + teacher down in Maryland. I'd been plugging away in a country school for + years, on a starvation salary. I was trying to support an invalid mother, + and put by something in case of storms. I remember how I used to wonder + whether I'd ever be able to wear a suit that wasn't shabby and have my + shoes polished every day. Then my health went back on me. The doctor told + me to get into the open air. By and by I got this idea of a travelling + bookstore. I had always been a lover of books, and in the days when I + boarded out among the farmers I used to read aloud to them. After my + mother died I built the wagon to suit my own ideas, bought a stock of + books from a big second-hand store in Baltimore, and set out. Parnassus + just about saved my life I guess." + </p> + <p> + He pushed his faded old cap back on his head and relit his pipe. I clicked + to Pegasus and we rumbled gently off over the upland, looking down across + the pastures. Distant cow bells sounded tankle-tonk among the bushes. + Across the slope of the hill I could see the road winding away to + Redfield. Somewhere along that road Andrew would be rolling back toward + home and roast pork with apple sauce; and here was I, setting out on the + first madness of my life without even a qualm. + </p> + <p> + "Miss McGill," said the little man, "this rolling pavilion has been wife, + doctor, and religion to me for seven years. A month ago I would have + scoffed at the thought of leaving her; but somehow it's come over me I + need a change. There's a book I've been yearning to write for a long time, + and I need a desk steady under my elbows and a roof over my head. And + silly as it seems, I'm crazy to get back to Brooklyn. My brother and I + used to live there as kids. Think of walking over the old Bridge at sunset + and seeing the towers of Manhattan against a red sky! And those old gray + cruisers down in the Navy Yard! You don't know how tickled I am to sell + out. I've sold a lot of copies of your brother's books and I've often + thought he'd be the man to buy Parnassus if I got tired of her." + </p> + <p> + "So he would," I said. "Just the man. He'd be only too likely to—and + go maundering about in this jaunting car and neglect the farm. But tell me + about selling books. How much profit do you make out of it? We'll be + passing Mrs. Mason's farm, by and by, and we might as well sell her + something just to make a start." + </p> + <p> + "It's very simple," he said. "I replenish my stock whenever I go through a + big town. There's always a second-hand bookstore somewhere about, where + you can pick up odds and ends. And every now and then I write to a + wholesaler in New York for some stuff. When I buy a book I mark in the + back just what I paid for it, then I know what I can afford to sell it + for. See here." + </p> + <p> + He pulled up a book from behind the seat—a copy of "Lorna Doone" it + was—and showed me the letters <i>a m</i> scrawled in pencil in the + back. + </p> + <p> + "That means that I paid ten cents for this. Now, if you sell it for a + quarter you've got a safe profit. It costs me about four dollars a week to + run Parnassus—generally less. If you clear that much in six days you + can afford to lay off on Sundays!" + </p> + <p> + "How do you know that <i>a m</i> stands for ten cents?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + "The code word's <i>manuscript</i>. Each letter stands for a figure, from + 0 up to 9, see?" He scrawled it down on a scrap of paper: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + m a n u s c r i p t + 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 +</pre> + <p> + "Now, you see <i>a m</i> stands for 10, <i>a n</i> would be 12, <i>n s</i> + is 24, <i>a c</i> is 15, <i>a m m</i> is $1.00, and so on. I don't pay + much over fifty cents for books as a rule, because country folks are shy + of paying much for them. They'll pay a lot for a separator or a buggy top, + but they've never been taught to worry about literature! But it's + surprising how excited they get about books if you sell 'em the right + kind. Over beyond Port Vigor there's a farmer who's waiting for me to go + back—I've been there three or four times—and he'll buy about + five dollars' worth if I know him. First time I went there I sold him + 'Treasure Island,' and he's talking about it yet. I sold him 'Robinson + Crusoe,' and 'Little Women' for his daughter, and 'Huck Finn,' and Grubb's + book about 'The Potato.' Last time I was there he wanted some Shakespeare, + but I wouldn't give it to him. I didn't think he was up to it yet." + </p> + <p> + I began to see something of the little man's idealism in his work. He was + a kind of traveling missionary in his way. A hefty talker, too. His eyes + were twinkling now and I could see him warming up. + </p> + <p> + "Lord!" he said, "when you sell a man a book you don't sell him just + twelve ounces of paper and ink and glue—you sell him a whole new + life. Love and friendship and humour and ships at sea by night—there's + all heaven and earth in a book, a real book I mean. Jiminy! If I were the + baker or the butcher or the broom huckster, people would run to the gate + when I came by—just waiting for my stuff. And here I go loaded with + everlasting salvation—yes, ma'am, salvation for their little, + stunted minds—and it's hard to make 'em see it. That's what makes it + worth while—I'm doing something that nobody else from Nazareth, + Maine, to Walla Walla, Washington, has ever thought of. It's a new field, + but by the bones of Whitman it's worth while. That's what this country + needs—more books!" + </p> + <p> + He laughed at his own vehemence. "Do you know, it's comical," he said. + "Even the publishers, the fellows that print the books, can't see what I'm + doing for them. Some of 'em refuse me credit because I sell their books + for what they're worth instead of for the prices they mark on them. They + write me letters about price-maintenance—and I write back about + merit-maintenance. Publish a good book and I'll get a good price for it, + say I! Sometimes I think the publishers know less about books than any one + else! I guess that's natural, though. Most school teachers don't know much + about children." + </p> + <p> + "The best of it is," he went on, "I have such a darn good time. Peg and + Bock (that's the dog) and I go loafing along the road on a warm summer + day, and by and by we'll fetch up alongside some boarding-house and there + are the boarders all rocking off their lunch on the veranda. Most of 'em + bored to death—nothing good to read, nothing to do but sit and watch + the flies buzzing in the sun and the chickens rubbing up and down in the + dust. First thing you know I'll sell half a dozen books that put the love + of life into them, and they don't forget Parnassus in a hurry. Take O. + Henry, for instance—there isn't anybody so dog-gone sleepy that he + won't enjoy that man's stories. He understood life, you bet, and he could + write it down with all its little twists. I've spent an evening reading O. + Henry and Wilkie Collins to people and had them buy out all their books I + had and clamour for more." + </p> + <p> + "What do you do in winter?" I asked—a practical question, as most of + mine are. + </p> + <p> + "That depends on where I am when bad weather sets in," said Mr. Mifflin. + "Two winters I was down south and managed to keep Parnassus going all + through the season. Otherwise, I just lay up wherever I am. I've never + found it hard to get lodging for Peg and a job for myself, if I had to + have them. Last winter I worked in a bookstore in Boston. Winter before, I + was in a country drugstore down in Pennsylvania. Winter before that, I + tutored a couple of small boys in English literature. Winter before that, + I was a steward on a steamer; you see how it goes. I've had a fairly + miscellaneous experience. As far as I can see, a man who's fond of books + never need starve! But this winter I'm planning to live with my brother in + Brooklyn and slog away at my book. Lord, how I've pondered over that + thing! Long summer afternoons I've sat here, jogging along in the dust, + thinking it out until it seemed as if my forehead would burst. You see, my + idea is that the common people—in the country, that is—never + have had any chance to get hold of books, and never have had any one to + explain what books can mean. It's all right for college presidents to draw + up their five-foot shelves of great literature, and for the publishers to + advertise sets of their Linoleum Classics, but what the people need is the + good, homely, honest stuff—something that'll stick to their ribs—make + them laugh and tremble and feel sick to think of the littleness of this + popcorn ball spinning in space without ever even getting a hot-box! And + something that'll spur 'em on to keep the hearth well swept and the wood + pile split into kindling and the dishes washed and dried and put away. Any + one who can get the country people to read something worth while is doing + his nation a real service. And that's what this caravan of culture aspires + to.... You must be weary of this harangue! Does the Sage of Redfield ever + run on like that?" + </p> + <p> + "Not to me," I said. "He's known me so long that he thinks of me as a kind + of animated bread-baking and cake-mixing machine. I guess he doesn't put + much stock in my judgment in literary matters. But he puts his digestion + in my hands without reserve. There's Mason's farm over there. I guess we'd + better sell them some books—hadn't we? Just for a starter." + </p> + <p> + We turned into the lane that runs up to the Mason farmhouse. Bock trotted + on ahead—very stiff on his legs and his tail gently wagging—to + interview the mastiff, and Mrs. Mason who was sitting on the porch, + peeling potatoes, laid down the pan. She's a big, buxom woman with jolly, + brown eyes like a cow's. + </p> + <p> + "For heaven's sake, Miss McGill," she called out in a cheerful voice—"I'm + glad to see you. Got a lift, did you?" + </p> + <p> + She hadn't really noticed the inscription on Parnassus, and thought it was + a regular huckster's wagon. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Mrs. Mason," I said, "I've gone into the book business. This is Mr. + Mifflin. I've bought out his stock. We've come to sell you some books." + </p> + <p> + She laughed. "Go on, Helen," she said, "you can't kid me! I bought a whole + set of books last year from an agent—'The World's Great Funeral + Orations'—twenty volumes. Sam and I ain't read more'n the first + volume yet. It's awful uneasy reading!" + </p> + <p> + Mifflin jumped down, and raised the side flap of the wagon. Mrs. Mason + came closer. I was tickled to see how the little man perked up at the + sight of a customer. Evidently selling books was meat and drink to him. + </p> + <p> + "Madam," he said, "'Funeral Orations' (bound in sackcloth, I suppose?) + have their place, but Miss McGill and I have got some real books here to + which I invite your attention. Winter will be here soon, and you will need + something more cheerful to beguile your evenings. Very possibly you have + growing children who would profit by a good book or two. A book of fairy + tales for the little girl I see on the porch? Or stories of inventors for + that boy who is about to break his neck jumping from the barn loft? Or a + book about road making for your husband? Surely there is something here + you need? Miss McGill probably knows your tastes." + </p> + <p> + That little red-bearded man was surely a born salesman. How he guessed + that Mr. Mason was the road commissioner in our township, goodness only + knows. Perhaps it was just a lucky shot. By this time most of the family + had gathered around the van, and I saw Mr. Mason coming from the barn with + his twelve-year-old Billy. + </p> + <p> + "Sam," shouted Mrs. Mason, "here's Miss McGill turned book pedlar and got + a preacher with her!" + </p> + <p> + "Hello, Miss McGill," said Mr. Mason. He is a big, slow-moving man of + great gravity and solidity. "Where's Andrew?" + </p> + <p> + "Andrew's coming home for roast pork and apple sauce," I said, "and I'm + going off to sell books for a living. Mr. Mifflin here is teaching me how. + We've got a book on road mending that's just what you need." + </p> + <p> + I saw Mr. and Mrs. Mason exchange glances. Evidently they thought me + crazy. I began to wonder whether we had made a mistake in calling on + people I knew so well. The situation was a trifle embarrassing. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mifflin came to the rescue. + </p> + <p> + "Don't be alarmed, sir," he said to Mr. Mason. "I haven't kidnapped Miss + McGill." (As he is about half my size this was amusing.) "We are trying to + increase her brother's income by selling his books for him. As a matter of + fact, we have a wager with him that we can sell fifty copies of 'Happiness + and Hayseed' before Hallowe'en. Now I'm sure your sporting instinct will + assist us by taking at least one copy. Andrew McGill is probably the + greatest author in this State, and every taxpayer ought to possess his + books. May I show you a copy?" + </p> + <p> + "That sounds reasonable," said Mr. Mason, and he almost smiled. "What do + you say, Emma, think we better buy a book or two? You know those 'Funeral + Orations.'..." "Well," said Emma, "you know we've always said we ought to + read one of Andrew McGill's books but we didn't rightly know how to get + hold of one. That fellow that sold us the funeral speeches didn't seem to + know about 'em. I tell you what, you folks better stop and have dinner + with us and you can tell us what we'd ought to buy. I'm just ready to put + the potatoes on the stove now." + </p> + <p> + I must confess that the prospect of sitting down to a meal I hadn't cooked + myself appealed to me strongly; and I was keen to see what kind of grub + Mrs. Mason provided for her household; but I was afraid that if we dallied + there too long Andrew would be after us. I was about to say that we would + have to be getting on, and couldn't stay; but apparently the zest of + expounding his philosophy to new listeners was too much for Mifflin. I + heard him saying: + </p> + <p> + "That's mighty kind of you, Mrs. Mason, and we'd like very much to stay. + Perhaps I can put Peg up in your barn for a while. Then we can tell you + all about our books." And to my amazement I found myself chiming in with + assent. + </p> + <p> + Mifflin certainly surpassed himself at dinner. The fact that Mrs. Mason's + hot biscuits tasted of saleratus gave me far less satisfaction than it + otherwise would, because I was absorbed in listening to the little + vagabond's talk. Mr. Mason came to the table grumbling something about his + telephone being out of order—(I wondered whether he had been trying + to get Andrew on the wire; he was a little afraid that I was being run + away with, I think)—but he was soon won over by the current of the + little man's cheery wit. Nothing daunted Mifflin. He talked to the old + grandmother about quilts; offered to cut off a strip of his necktie for + her new patchwork; and told all about the illustrated book on quilts that + he had in the van. He discussed cookery and the Bible with Mrs. Mason; and + she being a leading light in the Greenbriar Sunday School, was pleasantly + scandalized by his account of the best detective stories in the Old + Testament. With Mr. Mason he was all scientific farming, chemical manures, + macadam roads, and crop rotation; and to little Billy (who sat next him) + he told extraordinary yarns about Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett, Kit Carson, + Buffalo Bill, and what not. Honestly I was amazed at the little man. He + was as genial as a cricket on the hearth, and yet every now and then his + earnestness would break through. I don't wonder he was a success at + selling books. That man could sell clothes pins or Paris garters, I guess, + and make them seem romantic. + </p> + <p> + "You know, Mr. Mason," he said, "you certainly owe it to these youngsters + of yours to put a few really good books into their hands. City kids have + the libraries to go to, but in the country there's only old Doc + Hostetter's Almanac and the letters written by ladies with backache + telling how Peruna did for them. Give this boy and girl of yours a few + good books and you're starting them on the double-track, block-signal line + to happiness. Now there's 'Little Women'—that girl of yours can + learn more about real girlhood and fine womanhood out of that book than + from a year's paper dolls in the attic." + </p> + <p> + "That's right, Pa," assented Mrs. Mason. ("Go on with your meal, + Professor, the meat'll be cold.") She was completely won by the travelling + bookseller, and had given him the highest title of honour in her ken. + "Why, I read that story when I was a girl, and I still remember it. That's + better readin' for Dorothy than those funeral speeches, I reckon. I + believe the Professor's right: we'd ought to have more books laying + around. Seems kind of a shame, with a famous author at the next farm, not + to read more, don't it, now?" + </p> + <p> + So by the time we got down to Mrs. Mason's squash pie (good pie, too, I + admit, but her hand is a little heavy for pastry), the whole household was + enthusiastic about books, and the atmosphere was literary enough for even + Dr. Eliot to live in without panting. Mrs. Mason opened up her parlour and + we sat there while Mifflin recited "The Revenge" and "Maud Muller." + </p> + <p> + "Well, now, ain't that real sweet!" said Emma Mason. "It's surprising how + those words rhyme so nicely. Seems almost as though it was done a-purpose! + Reminds me of piece day at school. There was a mighty pretty piece I + learned called the 'Wreck of the Asperus.'" And she subsided into a + genteel melancholy. + </p> + <p> + I saw that Mr. Mifflin was well astride his hobby: he had started to tell + the children about Robin Hood, but I had the sense to give him a wink. We + had to be getting along or surely Andrew might be on us. So while Mifflin + was putting Pegasus into the shafts again I picked out seven or eight + books that I thought would fit the needs of the Masons. Mr. Mason insisted + that "Happiness and Hayseed" be included among them, and gave me a crisp + five-dollar bill, refusing any change. "No, no," he said, "I've had more + fun than I get at a grange meeting. Come round again, Miss McGill; I'm + going to tell Andrew what a good show this travelling theayter of yours + gives! And you, Professor, any time you're here about road-mending season, + stop in an' tell me some more good advice. Well, I must get back to the + field." + </p> + <p> + Bock fell in under the van, and we creaked off down the lane. Mifflin + filled his pipe and was chuckling to himself. I was a little worried now + for fear Andrew might overtake us. + </p> + <p> + "It's a wonder Sam Mason didn't call up Andrew," I said. "It must have + looked mighty queer to him for an old farm hand like me to be around, + peddling books." + </p> + <p> + "He would have done it straight off," said Mifflin, "but you see, I cut + his telephone wire!" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h2> + <p> + I gazed in astonishment at the wizened little rogue. Here was a new side + to the amiable idealist! Apparently there was a streak of fearless + deviltry in him besides his gentle love of books. I'm bound to say that + now, for the first time, I really admired him. I had burnt my own very + respectable boats behind me, and I rather enjoyed knowing that he, too, + could act briskly in a pinch. + </p> + <p> + "Well!" I said. "You are a cool hand! It's a good job for you that you + didn't stay a schoolmaster. You might have taught your pupils some fine + deviltries! And at your age, too!" + </p> + <p> + I'm afraid my raillery goes a little too far sometimes. He flushed a bit + at my reference to his age, and puffed sharply at his pipe. + </p> + <p> + "I say," he rejoined, "how old do you think I am, anyway? Only forty-one, + by the bones of Byron! Henry VIII was only forty-one when he married Anne + Boleyn. There are many consolations in history for people over forty! + Remember that when you get there. + </p> + <p> + "Shakespeare wrote 'King Lear' at forty-one," he added, more humorously; + and then burst out laughing. "I'd like to edit a series of 'Chloroform + Classics,' to include only books written after forty. Who was that doctor + man who recommended anaesthetics for us at that age? Now isn't that just + like a medico? Nurse us through the diseases of childhood, and as soon as + we settle down into permanent good health and worldly wisdom, and freedom + from doctors' fees, why he loses interest in us! Jove! I must note that + down and bring it into my book." + </p> + <p> + He pulled out a memorandum book and jotted down "Chloroform Classics" in a + small, neat hand. + </p> + <p> + "Well," I said (I felt a little contrite, as I was sincerely sorry to have + offended him), "I've passed forty myself in some measurements, so youth no + longer has any terrors for me." + </p> + <p> + He looked at me rather comically. + </p> + <p> + "My dear madam," he said, "your age is precisely eighteen. I think that if + we escape the clutches of the Sage of Redfield you may really begin to + live." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Andrew's not a bad sort," I said. "He's absentminded, and hot + tempered, and a little selfish. The publishers have done their best to + spoil him, but for a literary man I guess he's quite human. He rescued me + from being a governess, and that's to his credit. If only he didn't take + his meals quite so much as a matter of course...." + </p> + <p> + "The preposterous thing about him is that he really can <i>write</i>," + said Mifflin. "I envy him that. Don't let him know I said so, but as a + matter of fact his prose is almost as good as Thoreau. He approaches facts + as daintily as a cat crossing a wet road." + </p> + <p> + "You should see him at dinner," I thought; or rather I meant to think it, + but the words slipped out. I found myself thinking aloud in a rather + disconcerting way while sitting with this strange little person. + </p> + <p> + He looked at me. I noticed for the first time that his eyes were slate + blue, with funny birds' foot wrinkles at the corners. + </p> + <p> + "That's so," he said. "I never thought of that. A fine prose style + certainly presupposes sound nourishment. Excellent point that... And yet + Thoreau did his own cooking. A sort of Boy Scout I guess, with a badge as + kitchen master. Perhaps he took Beechnut bacon with him into the woods. I + wonder who cooked for Stevenson—Cummy? The 'Child's Garden of + Verses' was really a kind of kitchen garden, wasn't it? I'm afraid the + commissariat problem has weighed rather heavily on you. I'm glad you've + got away from it." + </p> + <p> + All this was getting rather intricate for me. I set it down as I remember + it, inaccurately perhaps. My governess days are pretty far astern now, and + my line is common sense rather than literary allusions. I said something + of the sort. + </p> + <p> + "Common sense?" he repeated. "Good Lord, ma'am, sense is the most uncommon + thing in the world. I haven't got it. I don't believe your brother has, + from what you say. Bock here has it. See how he trots along the road, + keeps an eye on the scenery, and minds his own business. I never saw him + get into a fight yet. Wish I could say the same of myself. I named him + after Boccaccio, to remind me to read the 'Decameron' some day." + </p> + <p> + "Judging by the way you talk," I said, "you ought to be quite a writer + yourself." + </p> + <p> + "Talkers never write. They go on talking." + </p> + <p> + There was a considerable silence. Mifflin relit his pipe and watched the + landscape with a shrewd eye. I held the reins loosely, and Peg ambled + along with a steady clop-clop. Parnassus creaked musically, and the + mid-afternoon sun lay rich across the road. We passed another farm, but I + did not suggest stopping as I felt we ought to push on. Mifflin seemed + lost in meditation, and I began to wonder, a little uneasily, how the + adventure would turn out. This quaintly masterful little man was a trifle + disconcerting. Across the next ridge I could see the Greenbriar church + spire shining white. + </p> + <p> + "Do you know this part of the country?" I asked finally. + </p> + <p> + "Not this exact section. I've been in Port Vigor often, but then I was on + the road that runs along the Sound. I suppose this village ahead is + Greenbriar?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," I said. "It's about thirteen miles from there to Port Vigor. How do + you expect to get back to Brooklyn?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Brooklyn?" he said vaguely. "Yes, I'd forgotten about Brooklyn for + the minute. I was thinking of my book. Why, I guess I'll take the train + from Port Vigor. The trouble is, you can never get to Brooklyn without + going through New York. It's symbolic, I suppose." + </p> + <p> + Again there was a silence. Finally he said, "Is there another town between + Greenbriar and Port Vigor?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Shelby," I said. "About five miles from Greenbriar." + </p> + <p> + "That'll be as far as you'll get to-night," he said. "I'll see you safe to + Shelby, and then make tracks for Port Vigor. I hope there's a decent inn + at Shelby where you can stop overnight." + </p> + <p> + I hoped so, too, but I wasn't going to let him see that with the waning + afternoon my enthusiasm was a little less robust. I was wondering what + Andrew was thinking, and whether Mrs. McNally had left things in good + order. Like most Swedes she had to be watched or she left her work only + three quarters done. And I didn't depend any too much on her daughter + Rosie to do the housework efficiently. I wondered what kind of meals + Andrew would get. And probably he would go right on wearing his summer + underclothes, although I had already reminded him about changing. Then + there were the chickens... + </p> + <p> + Well, the Rubicon was crossed now, and there was nothing to be done. + </p> + <p> + To my surprise, little Redbeard had divined my anxiety. "Now don't you + worry about the Sage," he said kindly. "A man that draws his royalties + isn't going to starve. By the bones of John Murray, his publishers can + send him a cook if necessary! This is a holiday for you, and don't you + forget it." + </p> + <p> + And with this cheering sentiment in my mind, we rolled sedately down the + hill toward Greenbriar. + </p> + <p> + I am about as hardy as most folks, I think, but I confess I balked a + little at the idea of facing the various people I know in Greenbriar as + the owner of a bookvan and the companion of a literary huckster. Also I + recollected that if Andrew should try to trace us it would be as well for + me to keep out of sight. So after telling Mr. Mifflin how I felt about + matters I dived into the Parnassus and lay down most comfortably on the + bunk. Bock the terrier joined me, and I rested there in great comfort of + mind and body as we ambled down the grade. The sun shone through the + little skylight gilding a tin pan that hung over the cook stove. Tacked + here and there were portraits of authors, and I noticed a faded newspaper + cutting pinned up. The headlines ran: "Literary Pedlar Lectures on + Poetry." I read it through. Apparently the Professor (so I had begun to + call him, as the aptness of the nickname stuck in my mind) had given a + lecture in Camden, N.J., where he had asserted that Tennyson was a greater + poet than Walt Whitman; and the boosters of the Camden poet had enlivened + the evening with missiles. It seems that the chief Whitman disciple in + Camden is Mr. Traubel; and Mr. Mifflin had started the rumpus by asserting + that Tennyson, too, had "Traubels of his own." What an absurd creature the + Professor was, I thought, as I lay comfortably lulled by the rolling + wheels. + </p> + <p> + Greenbriar is a straggling little town, built around a large common + meadow. Mifflin's general plan in towns, he had told me, was to halt + Parnassus in front of the principal store or hotel, and when a little + throng had gathered he would put up the flaps of the van, distribute his + cards, and deliver a harangue on the value of good books. I lay concealed + inside, but I gathered from the sounds that this was what was happening. + We came to a stop; I heard a growing murmur of voices and laughter + outside, and then the click of the raised sides of the wagon. I heard + Mifflin's shrill, slightly nasal voice making facetious remarks as he + passed out the cards. Evidently Bock was quite accustomed to the routine, + for though his tail wagged gently when the Professor began to talk, he lay + quite peaceably dozing at my feet. + </p> + <p> + "My friends," said Mr. Mifflin. "You remember Abe Lincoln's joke about the + dog? If you call a tail a leg, said Abe, how many legs has a dog? Five, + you answer. No, says Abe; because calling a tail a leg doesn't make it a + leg. Well, there are lots of us in the same case as that dog's tail. + Calling us men doesn't <i>make</i> us men. No creature on earth has a + right to think himself a human being if he doesn't know at least one good + book. The man that spends every evening chewing Piper Heidsieck at the + store is unworthy to catch the intimations of a benevolent Creator. The + man that's got a few good books on his shelf is making his wife happy, + giving his children a square deal, and he's likely to be a better citizen + himself. How about that, parson?" + </p> + <p> + I heard the deep voice of Reverend Kane, the Methodist minister: "You're + dead right, Professor!" he shouted. "Tell us some more about books. I'm + right with you!" Evidently Mr. Kane had been attracted by the sight of + Parnassus, and I could hear him muttering to himself as he pulled one or + two books from the shelves. How surprised he would have been if he had + known I was inside the van! I took the precaution of slipping the bolt of + the door at the back, and drew the curtains. Then I crept back into the + bunk. I began to imagine what an absurd situation there would be if Andrew + should arrive on the scene. + </p> + <p> + "You are all used to hucksters and pedlars and fellows selling every kind + of junk from brooms to bananas," said the Professor's voice. "But how + often does any one come round here to sell you books? You've got your town + library, I dare say; but there are some books that folks ought to own. + I've got 'em all here from Bibles to cook books. They'll speak for + themselves. Step up to the shelves, friends, and pick and choose." + </p> + <p> + I heard the parson asking the price of something he had found on the + shelves, and I believe he bought it; but the hum of voices around the + flanks of Parnassus was very soothing, and in spite of my interest in what + was going on I'm afraid I fell asleep. I must have been pretty tired; + anyway I never felt the van start again. The Professor says he looked in + through the little window from the driver's seat, and saw me sound asleep. + And the next thing I knew I woke up with a start to find myself rolling + leisurely in the dark. Bock was still lying over my feet, and there was a + faint, musical clang from the bucket under the van which struck against + something now and then. The Professor was sitting in front, with a lighted + lantern hanging from the peak of the van roof. He was humming some + outlandish song to himself, with a queer, monotonous refrain: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Shipwrecked was I off Soft Perowse + And right along the shore, + And so I did resolve to roam + The country to explore. + Tommy rip fal lal and a balum tip + Tommy rip fal lal I dee; + And so I did resolve to roam + The country for to see! +</pre> + <p> + I jumped out of the bunk, cracked my shins against something, and uttered + a rousing halloo. Parnassus stopped, and the Professor pushed back the + sliding window behind the driver's seat. + </p> + <p> + "Heavens!" I said. "Father Time, what o'clock is it?" + </p> + <p> + "Pretty near supper time, I reckon. You must have fallen asleep while I + was taking money from the Philistines. I made nearly three dollars for + you. Let's pull up along the road and have a bite to eat." + </p> + <p> + He guided Pegasus to one side of the road, and then showed me how to light + the swinging lamp that hung under the skylight. "No use to light the stove + on a lovely evening like this," he said. "I'll collect some sticks and we + can cook outside. You get out your basket of grub and I'll make a fire." + He unhitched Pegasus, tied her to a tree, and gave her a nose bag of oats. + Then he rooted around for some twigs and had a fire going in a jiffy. In + five minutes I had bacon and scrambled eggs sizzling in a frying pan, and + he had brought out a pail of water from the cooler under the bunk, and was + making tea. + </p> + <p> + I never enjoyed a picnic so much! It was a perfect autumn evening, + windless and frosty, with a dead black sky and a tiny rim of new moon like + a thumb-nail paring. We had our eggs and bacon, washed down with tea and + condensed milk, and followed by bread and jam. The little fire burned blue + and cozy, and we sat on each side of it while Bock scoured the pan and ate + the crusts. + </p> + <p> + "This your own bread, Miss McGill?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," I said. "I was calculating the other day that I've baked more than + 400 loaves a year for the last fifteen years. That's more than 6,000 + loaves of bread. They can put that on my tombstone." + </p> + <p> + "The art of baking bread is as transcendent a mystery as the art of making + sonnets," said Redbeard. "And then your hot biscuits—they might be + counted as shorter lyrics, I suppose—triolets perhaps. That makes + quite an anthology, or a doxology, if you prefer it." + </p> + <p> + "Yeast is yeast, and West is West," I said, and was quite surprised at my + own cleverness. I hadn't made a remark like that to Andrew in five years. + </p> + <p> + "I see you are acquainted with Kipling," he said. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, yes, every governess is." + </p> + <p> + "Where and whom did you govern?" + </p> + <p> + "I was in New York, with the family of a wealthy stockbroker. There were + three children. I used to take them walking in Central Park." + </p> + <p> + "Did you ever go to Brooklyn?" he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + "Never," I replied. + </p> + <p> + "Ah!" he said. "That's just the trouble. New York is Babylon; Brooklyn is + the true Holy City. New York is the city of envy, office work, and hustle; + Brooklyn is the region of homes and happiness. It is extraordinary: poor, + harassed New Yorkers presume to look down on low-lying, home-loving + Brooklyn, when as a matter of fact it is the precious jewel their souls + are thirsting for and they never know it. Broadway: think how symbolic the + name is. Broad is the way that leadeth to destruction! But in Brooklyn the + ways are narrow, and they lead to the Heavenly City of content. Central + Park: there you are—the centre of things, hemmed in by walls of + pride. Now how much better is Prospect Park, giving a fair view over the + hills of humility! There is no hope for New Yorkers, for they glory in + their skyscraping sins; but in Brooklyn there is the wisdom of the lowly." + </p> + <p> + "So you think that if I had been a governess in Brooklyn I should have + been so contented that I would never have come with Andrew and compiled my + anthology of 6,000 loaves of bread and the lesser lyrics?" + </p> + <p> + But the volatile Professor had already soared to other points of view, and + was not to be thwarted by argument. + </p> + <p> + "Of course Brooklyn is a dingy place, really," he admitted. "But to me it + symbolizes a state of mind, whereas New York is only a state of pocket. + You see I was a boy in Brooklyn: it still trails clouds of glory for me. + When I get back there and start work on my book I shall be as happy as + Nebuchadnezzar when he left off grass and returned to tea and crumpets. + 'Literature Among the Farmers' I'm going to call it, but that's a poor + title. I'd like to read you some of my notes for it." + </p> + <p> + I'm afraid I poorly concealed a yawn. As a matter of fact I was sleepy, + and it was growing chilly. + </p> + <p> + "Tell me first," I said, "where in the world are we, and what time is it?" + </p> + <p> + He pulled out a turnip watch. "It's nine o'clock," he said, "and we're + about two miles from Shelby, I should reckon. Perhaps we'd better get + along. They told me in Greenbriar that the Grand Central Hotel in Shelby + is a good place to stop at. That's why I wasn't anxious to get there. It + sounds so darned like New York." + </p> + <p> + He bundled the cooking utensils back into Parnassus, hitched Peg up again, + and tied Bock to the stern of the van. Then he insisted on giving me the + two dollars and eighty cents he had collected in Greenbriar. I was really + too sleepy to protest, and of course it was mine anyway. We creaked off + along the dark and silent road between the pine woods. I think he talked + fluently about his pilgrim's progress among the farmers of a dozen states, + but (to be honest) I fell asleep in my corner of the seat. I woke up when + we halted before the one hotel in Shelby—a plain, unimposing country + inn, despite its absurd name. I left him to put Parnassus and the animals + away for the night, while I engaged a room. Just as I got my key from the + clerk he came into the dingy lobby. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Mr. Mifflin," I said. "Shall I see you in the morning?" + </p> + <p> + "I had intended to push on to Port Vigor to-night," he said, "but as it's + fully eight miles (they tell me), I guess I'll bivouac here. I think I'll + go into the smoking-room and put them wise to some good books. We won't + say good-bye till to-morrow." + </p> + <p> + My room was pleasant and clean (fairly so). I took my suit case up with me + and had a hot bath. As I fell asleep I heard a shrill voice ascending from + below, punctuated with masculine laughter. The Pilgrim was making more + converts! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIX + </h2> + <p> + I had a curious feeling of bewilderment when I woke the next morning. The + bare room with the red-and-blue rag carpet and green china toilet set was + utterly strange. In the hall outside I heard a clock strike. "Heavens!" I + thought, "I've overslept myself nearly two hours. What on earth will + Andrew do for breakfast?" And then as I ran to close the window I saw the + blue Parnassus with its startling red letters standing in the yard. + Instantly I remembered. And discreetly peeping from behind the window + shade I saw that the Professor, armed with a tin of paint, was blotting + out his own name on the side of the van, evidently intending to substitute + mine. That was something I had not thought of. However, I might as well + make the best of it. + </p> + <p> + I dressed promptly, repacked my bag, and hurried downstairs for breakfast. + The long table was nearly empty, but one or two men sitting at the other + end eyed me curiously. Through the window I could see my name in large, + red letters, growing on the side of the van, as the Professor diligently + wielded his brush. And when I had finished my coffee and beans and bacon I + noticed with some amusement that the Professor had painted out the line + about Shakespeare, Charles Lamb, and so on, and had substituted new + lettering. The sign now read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + H. MCGILL'S + TRAVELLING PARNASSUS + GOOD BOOKS FOR SALE + COOK BOOKS A SPECIALTY + INQUIRE WITHIN +</pre> + <p> + Evidently he distrusted my familiarity with the classics. + </p> + <p> + I paid my bill at the desk, and was careful also to pay the charge for + putting up the horse and van overnight. Then I strolled into the stable + yard, where I found Mr. Mifflin regarding his handiwork with satisfaction. + He had freshened up all the red lettering, which shone brilliantly in the + morning sunlight. + </p> + <p> + "Good-morning," I said. + </p> + <p> + He returned it. + </p> + <p> + "There!" he cried—"Parnassus is really yours! All the world lies + before you! And I've got some more money for you. I sold some books last + night. I persuaded the hotel keeper to buy several volumes of O. Henry for + his smoking-room shelf, and I sold the 'Waldorf Cook Book' to the cook. + My! wasn't her coffee awful? I hope the cook book will better it." + </p> + <p> + He handed me two limp bills and a handful of small change. I took it + gravely and put it in my purse. This was really not bad—more than + ten dollars in less than twenty-four hours. + </p> + <p> + "Parnassus seems to be a gold mine," I said. + </p> + <p> + "Which way do you think you'll go?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "Well, as I know you want to get to Port Vigor I might just as well give + you a lift that way," I answered. + </p> + <p> + "Good! I was hoping you'd say that. They tell me the stage for Port Vigor + doesn't leave till noon, and I think it would kill me to hang around here + all morning with no books to sell. Once I get on the train I'll be all + right." + </p> + <p> + Bock was tied up in a corner of the yard, under the side door of the + hotel. I went over to release him while the Professor was putting Peg into + harness. As I stooped to unfasten the chain from his collar I heard some + one talking through the telephone. The hotel lobby was just over my head, + and the window was open. + </p> + <p> + "What did you say?" + </p> + <h3> + "—— —— —— ——" + </h3> + <p> + "McGill? Yes, sir, registered here last night. She's here now." + </p> + <p> + I didn't wait to hear more. Unfastening Bock, I hurried to tell Mifflin. + His eyes sparkled. + </p> + <p> + "The Sage is evidently on our spoor," he chuckled. "Well, let's be off. I + don't see what he can do even if he overhauls us." + </p> + <p> + The clerk was calling me from the window: "Miss McGill, your brother's on + the wire and asks to speak to you." + </p> + <p> + "Tell him I'm busy," I retorted, and climbed onto the seat. It was not a + diplomatic reply, I'm afraid, but I was too exhilarated by the keen + morning and the spirit of adventure to stop to think of a better answer. + Mifflin clucked to Peg, and off we went. + </p> + <p> + The road from Shelby to Port Vigor runs across the broad hill slopes that + trend toward the Sound; and below, on our left, the river lay glittering + in the valley. It was a perfect landscape: the woods were all bronze and + gold; the clouds were snowy white and seemed like heavenly washing hung + out to air; the sun was warm and swam gloriously in an arch of superb + blue. My heart was uplifted indeed. For the first time, I think, I knew + how Andrew feels on those vagabond trips of his. Why had all this been + hidden from me before? Why had the transcendent mystery of baking bread + blinded me so long to the mysteries of sun and sky and wind in the trees? + We passed a white farmhouse close to the road. By the gate sat the farmer + on a log, whittling a stick and smoking his pipe. Through the kitchen + window I could see a woman blacking the stove. I wanted to cry out: "Oh, + silly woman! Leave your stove, your pots and pans and chores, even if only + for one day! Come out and see the sun in the sky and the river in the + distance!" The farmer looked blankly at Parnassus as we passed, and then I + remembered my mission as a distributor of literature. Mifflin was sitting + with one foot on his bulging portmanteau, watching the tree tops rocking + in the cool wind. He seemed to be far away in a morning muse. I threw down + the reins and accosted the farmer. + </p> + <p> + "Good-morning, friend." + </p> + <p> + "Morning to you, ma'am," he said firmly. + </p> + <p> + "I'm selling books," I said. "I wonder if there isn't something you need?" + </p> + <p> + "Thanks, lady," he said, "but I bought a mort o' books last year an' I + don't believe I'll ever read 'em this side Jordan. A whole set o' + 'Funereal Orations' what an agent left on me at a dollar a month. I could + qualify as earnest mourner at any death-bed merrymakin' now, I reckon." + </p> + <p> + "You need some books to teach you how to live, not how to die," I said. + "How about your wife—wouldn't she enjoy a good book? How about some + fairy tales for the children?" + </p> + <p> + "Bless me," he said, "I ain't got a wife. I never was a daring man, and I + guess I'll confine my melancholy pleasures to them funereal orators for + some time yet." + </p> + <p> + "Well, now, hold on a minute!" I exclaimed. "I've got just the thing for + you." I had been looking over the shelves with some care, and remembered + seeing a copy of "Reveries of a Bachelor." I clambered down, raised the + flap of the van (it gave me quite a thrill to do it myself for the first + time), and hunted out the book. I looked inside the cover and saw the + letters <i>n m</i> in Mifflin's neat hand. + </p> + <p> + "Here you are," I said. "I'll sell you that for thirty cents." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you kindly, ma'am," he said courteously. "But honestly I wouldn't + know what to do with it. I am working through a government report on + scabworm and fungus, and I sandwich in a little of them funereal speeches + with it, and honestly that's about all the readin' I figure on. That an' + the Port Vigor Clarion." + </p> + <p> + I saw that he really meant it, so I climbed back on the seat. I would have + liked to talk to the woman in the kitchen who was peering out of the + window in amazement, but I decided it would be better to jog on and not + waste time. The farmer and I exchanged friendly salutes, and Parnassus + rumbled on. + </p> + <p> + The morning was so lovely that I did not feel talkative, and as the + Professor seemed pensive I said nothing. But as Peg plodded slowly up a + gentle slope he suddenly pulled a book out of his pocket and began to read + aloud. I was watching the river, and did not turn round, but listened + carefully: + </p> + <p> + "Rolling cloud, volleying wind, and wheeling sun—the blue tabernacle + of sky, the circle of the seasons, the sparkling multitude of the stars—all + these are surely part of one rhythmic, mystic whole. Everywhere, as we go + about our small business, we must discern the fingerprints of the gigantic + plan, the orderly and inexorable routine with neither beginning nor end, + in which death is but a preface to another birth, and birth the certain + forerunner of another death. We human beings are as powerless to conceive + the motive or the moral of it all as the dog is powerless to understand + the reasoning in his master's mind. He sees the master's acts, benevolent + or malevolent, and wags his tail. But the master's acts are always + inscrutable to him. And so with us. + </p> + <p> + "And therefore, brethren, let us take the road with a light heart. Let us + praise the bronze of the leaves and the crash of the surf while we have + eyes to see and ears to hear. An honest amazement at the unspeakable + beauties of the world is a comely posture for the scholar. Let us all be + scholars under Mother Nature's eye. + </p> + <p> + "How do you like that?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "A little heavy, but very good," I said. "There's nothing in it about the + transcendent mystery of baking bread!" + </p> + <p> + He looked rather blank. + </p> + <p> + "Do you know who wrote it?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + I made a valiant effort to summon some of my governessly recollections of + literature. + </p> + <p> + "I give it up," I said feebly. "Is it Carlyle?" + </p> + <p> + "That is by Andrew McGill," he said. "One of his cosmic passages which are + now beginning to be reprinted in schoolbooks. The blighter writes well." + </p> + <p> + I began to be uneasy lest I should be put through a literary catechism, so + I said nothing, but roused Peg into an amble. To tell the truth I was more + curious to hear the Professor talk about his own book than about Andrew's. + I had always carefully refrained from reading Andrew's stuff, as I thought + it rather dull. + </p> + <p> + "As for me," said the Professor, "I have no facility at the grand style. I + have always suffered from the feeling that it's better to read a good book + than to write a poor one; and I've done so much mixed reading in my time + that my mind is full of echoes and voices of better men. But this book I'm + worrying about now really deserves to be written, I think, for it has a + message of its own." + </p> + <p> + He gazed almost wistfully across the sunny valley. In the distance I + caught a glint of the Sound. The Professor's faded tweed cap was slanted + over one ear, and his stubby little beard shone bright red in the sun. I + kept a sympathetic silence. He seemed pleased to have some one to talk to + about his precious book. + </p> + <p> + "The world is full of great writers about literature," he said, "but + they're all selfish and aristocratic. Addison, Lamb, Hazlitt, Emerson, + Lowell—take any one you choose—they all conceive the love of + books as a rare and perfect mystery for the few—a thing of the + secluded study where they can sit alone at night with a candle, and a + cigar, and a glass of port on the table and a spaniel on the hearthrug. + What I say is, who has ever gone out into high roads and hedges to bring + literature home to the plain man? To bring it home to his business and + bosom, as somebody says? The farther into the country you go, the fewer + and worse books you find. I've spent several years joggling around with + this citadel of crime, and by the bones of Ben Ezra I don't think I ever + found a really good book (except the Bible) at a farmhouse yet, unless I + put it there myself. The mandarins of culture—what do they do to + teach the common folk to read? It's no good writing down lists of books + for farmers and compiling five-foot shelves; you've got to go out and + visit the people yourself—take the books to them, talk to the + teachers and bully the editors of country newspapers and farm magazines + and tell the children stories—and then little by little you begin to + get good books circulating in the veins of the nation. It's a great work, + mind you! It's like carrying the Holy Grail to some of these way-back + farmhouses. And I wish there were a thousand Parnassuses instead of this + one. I'd never give it up if it weren't for my book: but I want to write + about my ideas in the hope of stirring other folk up, too. I don't suppose + there's a publisher in the country will take it!" + </p> + <p> + "Try Mr. Decameron," I said. "He's always been very nice to Andrew." + </p> + <p> + "Think what it would mean," he cried, waving an eloquent hand, "if some + rich man would start a fund to equip a hundred or so wagons like this to + go huckstering literature around through the rural districts. It would + pay, too, once you got started. Yes, by the bones of Webster! I went to a + meeting of booksellers once, at some hotel in New York, and told 'em about + my scheme. They laughed at me. But I've had more fun toting books around + in this Parnassus than I could have had in fifty years sitting in a + bookstore, or teaching school, or preaching. Life's full of savour when + you go creaking along the road like this. Look at today, with the sun and + the air and the silver clouds. Best of all, though, I love the rainy days. + I used to pull up alongside the road, throw a rubber blanket over Peg, and + Bock and I would curl up in the bunk and smoke and read. I used to read + aloud to Bock: we went through 'Midshipman Easy' together, and a good deal + of Shakespeare. He's a very bookish dog. We've seen some queer experiences + in this Parnassus." + </p> + <p> + The hill road from Shelby to Port Vigor is a lonely one, as most of the + farmhouses lie down in the valley. If I had known better we might have + taken the longer and more populous way, but as a matter of fact I was + enjoying the wide view and the solitary road lying white in the sunshine. + We jogged along very pleasantly. Once more we stopped at a house where + Mifflin pleaded for a chance to exercise his art. I was much amused when + he succeeded in selling a copy of "Grimm's Fairy Tales" to a shrewish + spinster on the plea that she would enjoy reading the stories to her + nephews and nieces who were coming to visit her. + </p> + <p> + "My!" he chuckled, as he gave me the dingy quarter he had extracted. + "There's nothing in that book as grim as she is!" + </p> + <p> + A little farther on we halted by a roadside spring to give Peg a drink, + and I suggested lunch. I had laid in some bread and cheese in Shelby, and + with this and some jam we made excellent sandwiches. As we were sitting by + the fence the motor stage trundled past on its way to Port Vigor. A little + distance down the road it halted, and then went on again. I saw a familiar + figure walking back toward us. + </p> + <p> + "Now I'm in for it," I said to the Professor. "Here's Andrew!" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVEN + </h2> + <p> + Andrew is just as thin as I am fat, and his clothes hang on him in the + most comical way. He is very tall and shambling, wears a ragged beard and + a broad Stetson hat, and suffers amazingly from hay fever in the autumn. + (In fact, his essay on "Hay Fever" is the best thing he ever wrote, I + think.) As he came striding up the road I noticed how his trousers + fluttered at the ankles as the wind plucked at them. The breeze curled his + beard back under his chin and his face was quite dark with anger. I + couldn't help being amused; he looked so funny. + </p> + <p> + "The Sage looks like Bernard Shaw," whispered Mifflin. + </p> + <p> + I always believe in drawing first blood. + </p> + <p> + "Good-morning, Andrew," I called cheerfully. "Want to buy any books?" I + halted Pegasus, and Andrew stood a little in front of the wheel—partly + out of breath and mostly out of temper. + </p> + <p> + "What on earth is this nonsense, Helen?" he said angrily. "You've led me + the deuce of a chase since yesterday. And who is this—this person + you're driving with?" + </p> + <p> + "Andrew," I said, "you forget your manners. Let me introduce Mr. Mifflin. + I have bought his caravan and am taking a holiday, selling books. Mr. + Mifflin is on his way to Port Vigor where he takes the train to Brooklyn." + </p> + <p> + Andrew stared at the Professor without speaking. I could tell by the blaze + in his light-blue eyes that he was thoroughly angry, and I feared things + would be worse before they were better. Andrew is slow to wrath, but a + very hard person to deal with when roused. And I had some inkling by this + time of the Professor's temperament. Moreover, I am afraid that some of my + remarks had rather prejudiced him against Andrew, as a brother at any rate + and apart from his excellent prose. + </p> + <p> + Mifflin had the next word. He had taken off his funny little cap, and his + bare skull shone like an egg. I noticed a little sort of fairy ring of + tiny drops around his crown. + </p> + <p> + "My dear sir," said Mifflin, "the proceedings look somewhat unusual, but + the facts are simple to narrate. Your sister has bought this van and its + contents, and I have been instructing her in my theories of the + dissemination of good books. You as a literary man..." + </p> + <p> + Andrew paid absolutely no attention to the Professor, and I saw a slow + flush tinge Mifflin's sallow cheek. + </p> + <p> + "Look here, Helen," said Andrew, "do you think I propose to have my sister + careering around the State with a strolling vagabond? Upon my soul you + ought to have better sense—and at your age and weight! I got home + yesterday and found your ridiculous note. I went to Mrs. Collins, and she + knew nothing. I went to Mason's, and found him wondering who had bilked + his telephone. I suppose you did that. He had seen this freight car of + yours and put me on the track. But my God! I never thought to see a woman + of forty abducted by gypsies!" + </p> + <p> + Mifflin was about to speak but I waved him back. + </p> + <p> + "Now see here Andrew," I said, "you talk too quickly. A woman of forty + (you exaggerate, by the way) who has compiled an anthology of 6,000 loaves + of bread and dedicated it to you deserves some courtesy. When <i>you</i> + want to run off on some vagabond tour or other you don't hesitate to do + it. You expect me to stay home and do the Lady Eglantine in the poultry + yard. By the ghost of Susan B. Anthony, I won't do it! This is the first + real holiday I've had in fifteen years, and I'm going to suit myself." + </p> + <p> + Andrew's mouth opened, but I shook my fist so convincingly that he halted. + </p> + <p> + "I bought this Parnassus from Mr. Mifflin fair and square for four hundred + dollars. That's the price of about thirteen hundred dozen eggs," I said. + (I had worked this out in my head while Mifflin was talking about his + book.) + </p> + <p> + "The money's mine, and I'm going to use it my own way. Now, Andrew McGill, + if you want to buy any books, you can parley with me. Otherwise, I'm on my + way. You can expect me back when you see me." I handed him one of + Mifflin's little cards, which were in a pocket at the side of the van, and + gathered up the reins. I was really angry, for Andrew had been both + unreasonable and insulting. + </p> + <p> + Andrew looked at the card, and tore it in halves. He looked at the side of + Parnassus where the fresh red lettering was still damp. + </p> + <p> + "Well, upon my word," he said, "you must be crazy." He burst into a + violent fit of sneezing—a last touch of hay fever, I suspect, as + there was still goldenrod in the meadows. He coughed and sneezed + furiously, which made him madder than ever. At last he turned to Mifflin + who was sitting bald-headed with a flushed face and very bright eyes. + Andrew took him all in, the shabby Norfolk jacket, the bulging memorandum + book in his pocket, the stuffed portmanteau under his foot, even the copy + of "Happiness and Hayseed" which had dropped to the floor and lay back up. + </p> + <p> + "Look here, you," said Andrew, "I don't know by what infernal arts you + cajoled my sister away to go vagabonding in a huckster's wagon, but I know + this, that if you've cheated her out of her money I'll have the law on + you." + </p> + <p> + I tried to insert a word of protest, but matters had gone too far. The + Professor was as mad as Andrew now. + </p> + <p> + "By the bones of Piers Plowman," he said, "I had expected to meet a man of + letters and the author of this book"—he held up "Happiness and + Hayseed"—"but I see I was mistaken. I tell you, sir, a man who would + insult his sister before a stranger, as you have done, is an oaf and a + cad." He threw the book over the hedge, and before I could say a word he + had vaulted over the off wheel and ran round behind the van. + </p> + <p> + "Look here sir," he said, with his little red beard bristling, "your + sister is over age and acting of her own free will. By the bones of the + Baptist, I don't blame her for wanting a vacation if this is the way you + treat her. She is nothing to me, sir, and I am nothing to her, but I + propose to be a teacher to you. Put up your hands and I'll give you a + lesson!" + </p> + <p> + This was too much for me. I believe I screamed aloud, and started to + clamber from the van. But before I could do anything the two fanatics had + begun to pummel each other. I saw Andrew swing savagely at Mifflin, and + Mifflin hit him square on the chin. Andrew's hat fell on the road. Peg + stood placidly, and Bock made as if to grab Andrew's leg, but I hopped out + and seized him. + </p> + <p> + It was certainly a weird sight. I suppose I should have wrung my hands and + had hysterics, but as a matter of fact I was almost amused, it was so + silly. Thank goodness the road was deserted. + </p> + <p> + Andrew was a foot taller than the Professor, but awkward, loosely knit, + and unmuscular, while the little Redbeard was wiry as a cat. Also Andrew + was so furious that he was quite beside himself, and Mifflin was in the + cold anger that always wins. Andrew landed a couple of flailing blows on + the other man's chest and shoulders, but in thirty seconds he got another + punch on the chin followed by one on the nose that tumbled him over + backward. + </p> + <p> + Andrew sat in the road fishing for a handkerchief, and Mifflin stood + glaring at him, but looking very ill at ease. Neither of them said a word. + Bock broke away from me and capered and danced about Mifflin's feet as if + it were all a game. It was an extraordinary scene. + </p> + <p> + Andrew got up, mopping his bleeding nose. + </p> + <p> + "Upon my soul," he said, "I almost respect you for that punch. But by Jove + I'll have the law on you for kidnapping my sister. You're a fine kind of a + pirate." + </p> + <p> + Mifflin said nothing. + </p> + <p> + "Don't be a fool, Andrew" I said. "Can't you see that I want a little + adventure of my own? Go home and bake six thousand loaves of bread, and by + the time they're done I'll be back again. I think two men of your age + ought to be ashamed of yourselves. I'm going off to sell books." And with + that I climbed up to the seat and clucked to Pegasus. Andrew and Mifflin + and Bock remained standing in the road. + </p> + <p> + I was mad all the way through. I was mad at both men for behaving like + schoolboys. I was mad at Andrew for being so unreasonable, yet in a way I + admired him for it; I was mad at Mifflin for giving Andrew a bloody nose, + and yet I appreciated the spirit in which it was done. I was mad at myself + for causing all the trouble, and I was mad at Parnassus. If there had been + a convenient cliff handy I would have pushed the old thing over it. But + now I was in for it, and just had to go on. Slowly I rolled up a long + grade, and then saw Port Vigor lying ahead and the broad blue stretches of + the Sound. + </p> + <p> + Parnassus rumbled on with its pleasant creak, and the mellow sun and sweep + of the air soon soothed me. I began to taste salt in the wind, and above + the meadows two or three seagulls were circling. Like all women, my angry + mood melted into a reaction of exaggerated tenderness and I began to + praise both Andrew and Mifflin in my heart. How fine to have a brother so + solicitous of his sister's welfare and reputation! And yet, how splendid + the little, scrawny Professor had been! How quick to resent an insult and + how bold to avenge it! His absurd little tweed cap was lying on the seat, + and I picked it up almost sentimentally. The lining was frayed and torn. + From my suit case in the van I got out a small sewing kit, and hanging the + reins on a hook I began to stitch up the rents as Peg jogged along. I + thought with amusement of the quaint life Mr. Mifflin had led in his + "caravan of culture." I imagined him addressing the audience of Whitman + disciples in Camden, and wondered how the fuss ended. I imagined him in + his beloved Brooklyn, strolling in Prospect Park and preaching to chance + comers his gospel of good books. How different was his militant love of + literature from Andrew's quiet satisfaction. And yet how much they really + had in common! It tickled me to think of Mifflin reading aloud from + "Happiness and Hayseed," and praising it so highly, just before fighting + with the author and giving him a bloody nose. I remembered that I should + have spoken to Andrew about feeding the hens, and reminded him of his + winter undergarments. What helpless creatures men are, after all! + </p> + <p> + I finished mending the cap in high good humour. + </p> + <p> + I had hardly laid it down when I heard a quick step in the road behind me, + and looking back, there was Mifflin, striding along with his bald pate + covered with little beads of moisture. Bock trotted sedately at his heels. + I halted Peg. + </p> + <p> + "Well," I said, "what's happened to Andrew?" + </p> + <p> + The Professor still looked a bit shamefaced. "The Sage is a tenacious + person," he said. "We argued for a bit without much satisfaction. As a + matter of fact we nearly came to blows again, only he got another waft of + goldenrod, which started him sneezing, and then his nose began bleeding + once more. He is convinced that I'm a ruffian, and said so in excellent + prose. Honestly, I admire him a great deal. I believe he intends to have + the law on me. I gave him my Brooklyn address in case he wants to follow + the matter up. I think I rather pleased him by asking him to autograph + 'Happiness and Hayseed' for me. I found it lying in the ditch." + </p> + <p> + "Well," I said, "you two are certainly a great pair of lunatics. You both + ought to go on the stage. You'd be as good as Weber and Fields. Did he + give you the autograph?" + </p> + <p> + He pulled the book out of his pocket. Scrawled in it in pencil were the + words "I have shed blood for Mr. Mifflin. Andrew McGill." + </p> + <p> + "I shall read the book again with renewed interest," said Mifflin. "May I + get in?" + </p> + <p> + "By all means," I said. "There's Port Vigor in front of us." + </p> + <p> + He put on his cap, noticed that it seemed to feel different, pulled it off + again, and then looked at me in a quaint embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + "You are very good, Miss McGill," he said. + </p> + <p> + "Where did Andrew go?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + "He set off for Shelby on foot," Mifflin answered. "He has a grand stride + for walking. He suddenly remembered that he had left some potatoes boiling + on the fire yesterday afternoon, and said he must get back to attend to + them. He said he hoped you would send him a postal card now and then. Do + you know, he reminds me of Thoreau more than ever." + </p> + <p> + "He reminds me of a burnt cooking pot," I said. "I suppose all my + kitchenware will be in a horrible state when I get home." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHT + </h2> + <p> + Port Vigor is a fascinating old town. It is built on a point jutting out + into the Sound. Dimly in the distance one can see the end of Long Island, + which Mifflin viewed with sparkling eyes. It seemed to bring him closer to + Brooklyn. Several schooners were beating along the estuary in the fresh + wind, and there was a delicious tang of brine in the air. We drove direct + to the station where the Professor alighted. We took his portmanteau, and + shut Bock inside the van to prevent the dog from following him. Then there + was an awkward pause as he stood by the wheel with his cap off. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Miss McGill," he said, "there's an express train at five o'clock, + so with luck I shall be in Brooklyn to-night. My brother's address is 600 + Abingdon Avenue, and I hope when you're sending a card to the Sage you'll + let me have one, too. I shall be very homesick for Parnassus, but I'd + rather leave her with you than with any one I know." + </p> + <p> + He bowed very low, and before I could say a word he blew his nose + violently and hurried away. I saw him carrying his valise into the + station, and then he disappeared. I suppose that living alone with Andrew + for all these years has unused me to the eccentricities of other people, + but surely this little Redbeard was one of the strangest beings one would + be likely to meet. + </p> + <p> + Bock yowled dismally inside, and I did not feel in any mood to sell books + in Port Vigor. I drove back into the town and stopped at a tea shop for a + pot of tea and some toast. When I came out I found that quite a little + crowd had collected, partly owing to the strange appearance of Parnassus + and partly because of Bock's plaintive cries from within. Most of the + onlookers seemed to suspect the outfit of being part of a travelling + menagerie, so almost against my will I put up the flaps, tied Bock to the + tail of the wagon, and began to answer the humourous questions of the + crowd. Two or three bought books without any urging, and it was some time + before I could get away. Finally I shut up the van and pulled off, as I + was afraid of seeing some one I knew. As I turned into the Woodbridge Road + I heard the whistle of the five o'clock train to New York. + </p> + <p> + The twenty miles of road between Sabine Farm and Port Vigor was all + familiar to me, but now to my relief I struck into a region that I had + never visited. On my occasional trips to Boston I had always taken the + train at Port Vigor, so the country roads were unknown. But I had set out + on the Woodbridge way because Mifflin had spoken of a farmer, Mr. Pratt, + who lived about four miles out of Port Vigor, on the Woodbridge Road. + Apparently Mr. Pratt had several times bought books from the Professor and + the latter had promised to visit him again. So I felt in duty bound to + oblige a good customer. + </p> + <p> + After the varied adventures of the last two days it was almost a relief to + be alone to think things over. Here was I, Helen McGill, in a queer case + indeed. Instead of being home at Sabine Farm getting supper, I was + trundling along a strange road, the sole owner of a Parnassus (probably + the only one in existence), a horse, and a dog, and a cartload of books on + my hands. Since the morning of the day before my whole life had twisted + out of its accustomed orbit. I had spent four hundred dollars of my + savings; I had sold about thirteen dollars' worth of books; I had + precipitated a fight and met a philosopher. Not only that, I was dimly + beginning to evolve a new philosophy of my own. And all this in order to + prevent Andrew from buying a lot more books! At any rate, I had been + successful in that. When he had seen Parnassus at last, he had hardly + looked at her—except in tones of scorn. I caught myself wondering + whether the Professor would allude to the incident in his book, and hoping + that he would send me a copy. But after all, why should he mention it? To + him it was only one of a thousand adventures. As he had said angrily to + Andrew, he was nothing to me, nor I to him. How could he realize that this + was the first adventure I had had in the fifteen years I had been—what + was it he called it?—compiling my anthology. Well, the funny little + gingersnap! + </p> + <p> + I kept Bock tied to the back of the van, as I was afraid he might take a + notion to go in search of his master. As we jogged on, and the falling sun + cast a level light across the way, I got a bit lonely. This solitary + vagabonding business was a bit sudden after fifteen years of home life. + The road lay close to the water and I watched the Sound grow a deeper blue + and then a dull purple. I could hear the surf pounding, and on the end of + Long Island a far-away lighthouse showed a ruby spark. I thought of the + little gingersnap roaring toward New York on the express, and wondered + whether he was travelling in a Pullman or a day coach. A Pullman chair + would feel easy after that hard Parnassus seat. + </p> + <p> + By and by we neared a farmhouse which I took to be Mr. Pratt's. It stood + close to the road, with a big, red barn behind and a gilt weathervane + representing a galloping horse. Curiously enough Peg seemed to recognize + the place, for she turned in at the gate and neighed vigorously. It must + have been a favourite stopping place for the Professor. + </p> + <p> + Through a lighted window I could see people sitting around a table. + Evidently the Pratts were at supper. I drew up in the yard. Some one + looked out of a window, and I heard a girl's voice: + </p> + <p> + "Why, Pa, here's Parnassus!" + </p> + <p> + Gingersnap must have been a welcome visitor at that farm, for in an + instant the whole family turned out with a great scraping of chairs and + clatter of dishes. A tall, sunburnt man, in a clean shirt with no collar, + led the group, and then came a stout woman about my own build, and a hired + man and three children. + </p> + <p> + "Good evening!" I said. "Is this Mr. Pratt?" + </p> + <p> + "Sure thing!" said he. "Where's the Perfessor?" + </p> + <p> + "On his way to Brooklyn," said I. "And I've got Parnassus. He told me to + be sure to call on you. So here we are." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I want to know!" ejaculated Mrs. Pratt. "Think of Parnassus turned + suffrage! Ben, you put up the critters, and I'll take Mrs. Mifflin in to + supper." + </p> + <p> + "Hold on there," I said. "My name's McGill—Miss McGill. See, it's + painted on the wagon. I bought the outfit from Mr. Mifflin. A business + proposition entirely." + </p> + <p> + "Well, well," said Mr. Pratt. "We're glad to see any friend of the + Perfessor. Sorry he's not here, too. Come right in and have a bite with + us." + </p> + <p> + They were certainly good-hearted folk, Mr. and Mrs. Ben Pratt. He put Peg + and Bock away in the barn and gave them their supper, while Mrs. Pratt + took me up to her spare bedroom and brought me a jug of hot water. Then + they all trooped back into the dining-room and the meal began again. I am + a connoisseur of farm cooking, I guess, and I've got to hand it to Beulah + Pratt that she was an A-1 housewife. Her hot biscuit was perfect; the + coffee was real Mocha, simmered, not boiled; the cold sausage and potato + salad was as good as any Andrew ever got. And she had a smoking-hot omelet + sent in for me, and opened a pot of her own strawberry preserve. The + children (two boys and a girl) sat open-mouthed, nudging one another, and + Mr. Pratt got out his pipe while I finished up on stewed pears and cream + and chocolate cake. It was a regular meal. I wondered what Andrew was + eating and whether he had found the nest behind the wood pile where the + red hen always drops her eggs. + </p> + <p> + "Well, well," said Mr. Pratt, "tell us about the Perfessor. We was + expectin' him here some time this fall. He generally gets here around + cider time." + </p> + <p> + "I guess there isn't so much to tell," I said. "He stopped up at our place + the other day, and said he wanted to sell his outfit. So I bought him out. + He was pining to get back to Brooklyn and write a book." + </p> + <p> + "That book o' his!" said Mrs. Pratt. "He was always talkin' on it, but I + don't believe he ever started it yet." + </p> + <p> + "Whereabout do you come from, Miss McGill?" said Pratt. I could see he was + mighty puzzled at a woman driving a vanload of books around the country, + alone. + </p> + <p> + "Over toward Redfield," I said. + </p> + <p> + "You any kin to that writer that lives up that way?" + </p> + <p> + "You mean Andrew McGill?" I said. "He's my brother." + </p> + <p> + "Do tell!" exclaimed Mrs. Pratt. "Why the Perfessor thought a terrible lot + of him. He read us all to sleep with one of his books one night. Said he + was the best literature in this State, I do believe." + </p> + <p> + I smiled to myself as I thought of the set-to on the road from Shelby. + </p> + <p> + "Well," said Pratt, "if the Perfessor's got any better friends than us in + these parts, I'm glad to meet 'em. He come here first time 'bout four + years ago. I was up working in the hayfield that afternoon, and I heard a + shout down by the mill pond. I looked over that way and saw a couple o' + kids waving their arms and screamin'. I ran down the hill and there was + the Perfessor just a pullin' my boy Dick out o' the water. Dick's this one + over here." + </p> + <p> + Dick, a small boy of thirteen or so, grew red under his freckles. + </p> + <p> + "The kids had been foolin' around on a raft there, an' first thing you + know Dick fell in, right into deep water, over by the dam. Couldn't swim a + stroke, neither. And the Perfessor, who jest happened to be comin' along + in that 'bus of his, heard the boys yell. Didn't he hop out o' the wagon + as spry as a chimpanzee, skin over the fence, an' jump into the pond, swim + out there an' tow the boy in! Yes, ma'am, he saved that boy's life then + an' no mistake. That man can read me to sleep with poetry any night he has + a mind to. He's a plumb fine little firecracker, the Perfessor." + </p> + <p> + Farmer Pratt pulled hard on his pipe. Evidently his friendship for the + wandering bookseller was one of the realities of his life. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, ma'am," he went on, "that Perfessor has been a good friend to me, + sure enough. We brought him an' the boy back to the house. The boy had + gone down three times an' the Perfessor had to dive to find him. They were + both purty well all in, an' I tell you I was scared. But we got Dick + around somehow—rolled him on a sugar bar'l, an' poured whiskey in + him, an' worked his arms, an' put him in hot blankets. By and by he come + to. An' then I found that the Perfessor, gettin' over the barb-wire fence + so quick (when he lit for the pond) had torn a hole in his leg you could + put four fingers in. There was his trouser all stiff with blood, an' he + not sayin' a thing. Pluckiest little runt in three States, by Judas! Well, + we put <i>him</i> to bed, too, and then the Missus keeled over, an' we put + <i>her</i> to bed. Three of them, by time the Doc got here. Great old + summer afternoon that was! But bless your heart, we couldn't keep the + Perfessor abed long. Next day he was out lookin' fer his poetry books, an' + first thing you know he had us all rounded up an' was preachin' good + literature at us like any evangelist. I guess we all fell asleep over his + poetry, so then he started on readin' that 'Treasure Island' story to us, + wasn't it, Mother? By hickory, we none of us fell asleep over that. He + started the kids readin' so they been at it ever since, and Dick's top boy + at school now. Teacher says she never saw such a boy for readin'. That's + what Perfessor done for us! Well, tell us 'bout yerself, Miss McGill. Is + there any good books we ought to read? I used to pine for some o' that + feller Shakespeare my father used to talk about so much, but Perfessor + always 'lowed it was over my head!" + </p> + <p> + It gave me quite a thrill to hear all this about Mifflin. I could readily + imagine the masterful little man captivating the simple-hearted Pratts + with his eloquence and earnestness. And the story of the mill pond had its + meaning, too. Little Redbeard was no mere wandering crank—he was a + real man, cool and steady of brain, with the earmarks of a hero. I felt a + sudden gush of warmth as I recalled his comical ways. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pratt lit a fire in her Franklin stove and I racked my head wondering + how I could tread worthily in the Professor's footsteps. Finally I fetched + the "Jungle Book" from Parnassus and read them the story of + Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. There was a long pause when I had finished. + </p> + <p> + "Say, Pa," said Dick shyly, "that mongoose was rather like Professor, + wasn't he!" + </p> + <p> + Plainly the Professor was the traditional hero of this family, and I began + to feel rather like an impostor! + </p> + <p> + I suppose it was foolish of me, but I had already made up my mind to push + on to Woodbridge that night. It could not be more than four miles, and the + time was not much after eight. I felt a little twinge of quite unworthy + annoyance because I was still treading in the glamour of the Professor's + influence. The Pratts would talk of nothing else, and I wanted to get + somewhere where I would be estimated at my own value, not merely as his + disciple. "Darn the Redbeard," I said to myself, "I think he has bewitched + these people!" And in spite of their protests and invitations to stay the + night, I insisted on having Peg hitched up. I gave them the copy of the + "Jungle Book" as a small return for their hospitality, and finally sold + Mr. Pratt a little copy of "Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare" which I thought + he could read without brain fever. Then I lit my lantern and after a + chorus of good-byes Parnassus rolled away. "Well," I said to myself as I + turned into the high road once more, "drat the gingersnap, he seems to + hypnotize everybody... he must be nearly in Brooklyn by this time!" + </p> + <p> + It was very quiet along the road, also very dark, for the sky had clouded + over and I could see neither moon nor stars. As it was a direct road I + should have had no difficulty, and I suppose I must have fallen into a + doze during which Peg took a wrong turning. At any rate, I realized about + half-past nine that Parnassus was on a much rougher road than the highway + had any right to be, and there were no telephone poles to be seen. I knew + that they stretched all along the main road, so plainly I had made a + mistake. I was reluctant for a moment to admit that I could be wrong, and + just then Peg stumbled heavily and stood still. She paid no heed to my + exhortations, and when I got out and carried my lantern to see whether + anything was in the way, I found that she had cast a shoe and her foot was + bleeding. The shoe must have dropped off some way back and she had picked + up a nail or something in the quick. I saw no alternative but to stay + where I was for the night. + </p> + <p> + This was not very pleasant, but the adventures of the day had put me into + a stoical frame of mind, and I saw no good in repining. I unhitched Peg, + sponged her foot, and tied her to a tree. I would have made more careful + explorations to determine just where I was, but a sharp patter of rain + began to fall. So I climbed into my Parnassus, took Bock in with me, and + lit the swinging lamp. By this time it was nearly ten o'clock. There was + nothing to do but turn in, so I took off my boots and lay down in the + bunk. Bock lay quite comfortably on the floor of the van. I meant to read + for a while, and so did not turn out the light, but I fell asleep almost + immediately. + </p> + <p> + I woke up at half-past eleven and turned out the lamp, which had made the + van very warm. I opened the little windows front and back, and would have + opened the door, but I feared Bock might slip away. It was still raining a + little. To my annoyance I felt very wakeful. I lay for some time listening + to the patter of raindrops on the roof and skylight—a very snug + sound when one is warm and safe. Every now and then I could hear Peg + stamping in the underbrush. I was almost dozing off again when Bock gave a + low growl. + </p> + <p> + No woman of my bulk has a right to be nervous, I guess, but instantly my + security vanished! The patter of the rain seemed menacing, and I imagined + a hundred horrors. I was totally alone and unarmed, and Bock was not a + large dog. He growled again, and I felt worse than before. I imagined that + I heard stealthy sounds in the bushes, and once Peg snorted as though + frightened. I put my hand down to pat Bock, and found that his neck was + all bristly, like a fighting cock. He uttered a queer half growl, half + whine, which gave me a chill. Some one must be prowling about the van, but + in the falling rain I could hear nothing. + </p> + <p> + I felt I must do something. I was afraid to call out lest I betray the + fact that there was only a woman in the van. My expedient was absurd + enough, but at any rate it satisfied my desire to act. I seized one of my + boots and banged vigorously on the floor, at the same time growling in as + deep and masculine a voice as I could muster: "What the hell's the matter? + What the hell's the matter?" This sounds silly enough, I dare say, but it + afforded me some relief. And as Bock shortly ceased growling, it + apparently served some purpose. + </p> + <p> + I lay awake for a long time, tingling all over with nervousness. Then I + began to grow calmer, and was getting drowsy almost in spite of myself + when I was aroused by the unmistakable sound of Bock's tail thumping on + the floor—a sure sign of pleasure. This puzzled me quite as much as + his growls. I did not dare strike a light, but could hear him sniffing at + the door of the van and whining with eagerness. This seemed very uncanny, + and again I crept stealthily out of the bunk and pounded on the floor + lustily, this time with the frying pan, which made an unearthly din. Peg + neighed and snorted, and Bock began to bark. Even in my anxiety I almost + laughed. "It sounds like an insane asylum," I thought, and reflected that + probably the disturbance was only caused by some small animal. Perhaps a + rabbit or a skunk which Bock had winded and wanted to chase. I patted him, + and crawled into my bunk once more. + </p> + <p> + But my real excitement was still to come. About half an hour later I heard + unmistakable footsteps alongside the van. Bock growled furiously, and I + lay in a panic. Something jarred one of the wheels. Then broke out a most + extraordinary racket. I heard quick steps, Peg whinneyed, and something + fell heavily against the back of the wagon. There was a violent scuffle on + the ground, the sound of blows, and rapid breathing. With my heart jumping + I peered out of one of the back windows. There was barely any light, but + dimly I could see a tumbling mass which squirmed and writhed on the + ground. Something struck one of the rear wheels so that Parnassus + trembled. I heard hoarse swearing, and then the whole body, whatever it + was, rolled off into the underbrush. There was a terrific crashing and + snapping of twigs. Bock whined, growled, and pawed madly at the door. And + then complete silence. + </p> + <p> + My nerves were quite shattered by this time. I don't think I had been so + frightened since childhood days when I awakened from a nightmare. Little + trickles of fear crept up and down my spine and my scalp prickled. I + pulled Bock on the bunk, and lay with one hand on his collar. He, too, + seemed agitated and sniffed gingerly now and then. Finally, however, he + gave a sigh and fell asleep. I judged it might have been two o'clock, but + I did not like to strike a light. And at last I fell into a doze. + </p> + <p> + When I woke the sun was shining brilliantly and the air was full of the + chirping of birds. I felt stiff and uneasy from sleeping in my clothes, + and my foot was numb from Bock's weight. + </p> + <p> + I got up and looked out of the window. Parnassus was standing in a narrow + lane by a grove of birch trees. The ground was muddy, and smeared with + footprints behind the van. I opened the door and looked around. The first + thing I saw, on the ground by one of the wheels, was a battered tweed cap. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINE + </h2> + <p> + My feelings were as mixed as a crushed nut sundae. So the Professor hadn't + gone to Brooklyn after all! What did he mean by prowling after me like a + sleuth? Was it just homesickness for Parnassus? Not likely! And then the + horrible noises I had heard in the night; had some tramp been hanging + about the van in the hope of robbing me? Had the tramp attacked Mifflin? + Or had Mifflin attacked the tramp? Who had got the better of it? + </p> + <p> + I picked up the muddy cap and threw it into the van. Anyway, I had + problems of my own to tackle, and those of the Professor could wait. + </p> + <p> + Peg whinneyed when she saw me. I examined her foot. Seeing it by daylight + the trouble was not hard to diagnose. A long, jagged piece of slate was + wedged in the frog of the foot. I easily wrenched it out, heated some + water, and gave the hoof another sponging. It would be all right when shod + once more. But where was the shoe? + </p> + <p> + I gave the horse some oats, cooked an egg and a cup of coffee for myself + at the little kerosene stove, and broke up a dog biscuit for Bock. I + marvelled once more at the completeness of Parnassus' furnishings. Bock + helped me to scour the pan. He sniffed eagerly at the cap when I showed it + to him, and wagged his tail. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me that the only thing I could do was to leave Parnassus and + the animals where they were and retrace my steps as far as the Pratt farm. + Undoubtedly Mr. Pratt would be glad to sell me a horse-shoe and send his + hired man to do the job for me. I could not drive Peg as she was, with a + sore foot and without a shoe. I judged Parnassus would be quite safe: the + lane seemed to be a lonely one leading to a deserted quarry. I tied Bock + to the steps to act as a guard, took my purse and the Professor's cap with + me, locked the door of the van, and set off along the back track. Bock + whined and tugged violently when he saw me disappearing, but I could see + no other course. + </p> + <p> + The lane rejoined the main road about half a mile back. I must have been + asleep or I could never have made the mistake of turning off. I don't see + why Peg should have made the turn, unless her foot hurt and she judged the + side track would be a good place to rest. She must have been well used to + stopping overnight in the open. + </p> + <p> + I strode along pondering over my adventures, and resolved to buy a pistol + when I got to Woodbridge. I remember thinking that I could write quite a + book now myself. Already I began to feel quite a hardened pioneer. It + doesn't take an adaptable person long to accustom one's self to a new way + of life, and the humdrum routine of the farm certainly looked prosy + compared to voyaging with Parnassus. When I had got beyond Woodbridge, and + had crossed the river, I would begin to sell books in earnest. Also I + would buy a notebook and jot down my experiences. I had heard of + bookselling as a profession for women, but I thought that my taste of it + was probably unique. I might even write a book that would rival Andrew's—yes, + and Mifflin's. And that brought my thoughts to Barbarossa again. + </p> + <p> + Of all extraordinary people, I thought, he certainly takes the cake—and + then, rounding a bend, I saw him sitting on a rail fence, with his head + shining in the sunlight. My heart gave a sort of jump. I do believe I was + getting fond of the Professor. He was examining something which he held in + his hand. + </p> + <p> + "You'll get sunstroke," I said. "Here's your cap." And I pulled it out of + my pocket and tossed it to him. + </p> + <p> + "Thanks," he said, as cool as you please. "And here's your horse-shoe. + Fair exchange!" + </p> + <p> + I burst out laughing, and he looked disconcerted, as I hoped he would. + </p> + <p> + "I thought you'd be in Brooklyn by now," I said, "at 600 Abingdon Avenue, + laying out Chapter One. What do you mean by following me this way? You + nearly frightened me to death last night. I felt like one of Fenimore + Cooper's heroines, shut up in the blockhouse while the redskins prowled + about." + </p> + <p> + He flushed and looked very uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + "I owe you an apology," he said. "I certainly never intended that you + should see me. I bought a ticket for New York and checked my bag through. + And then while I was waiting for the train it came over me that your + brother was right, and that it was a darned risky thing for you to go + jaunting about alone in Parnassus. I was afraid something might happen. I + followed along the road behind you, keeping well out of sight." + </p> + <p> + "Where were you while I was at Pratt's?" + </p> + <p> + "Sitting not far down the road eating bread and cheese," he said. "Also I + wrote a poem, a thing I very rarely do." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I hope your ears burned," I said, "for those Pratts have certainly + raised you to the peerage." + </p> + <p> + He got more uncomfortable than ever. + </p> + <p> + "Well," he said, "I dare say it was all an error, but anyway I <i>did</i> + follow you. When you turned off into that lane, I kept pretty close behind + you. As it happens, I know this bit of country, and there are very often + some hoboes hanging around the old quarry up that lane. They have a cave + there where they go into winter quarters. I was afraid some of them might + bother you. You could hardly have chosen a worse place to camp out. By the + bones of George Eliot, Pratt ought to have warned you. I can't conceive + why you didn't stop at his house overnight anyway." + </p> + <p> + "If you must know, I got weary of hearing them sing your praises." + </p> + <p> + I could see that he was beginning to get nettled. + </p> + <p> + "I regret having alarmed you," he said. "I see that Peg has dropped a + shoe. If you'll let me fix it for you, after that I won't bother you." + </p> + <p> + We turned back again along the road, and I noticed the right side of his + face for the first time. Under the ear was a large livid bruise. + </p> + <p> + "That hobo, or whoever he was," I said, "must have been a better fighter + than Andrew. I see he landed on your cheek. Are you always fighting?" + </p> + <p> + His annoyance disappeared. Apparently the Professor enjoyed a fight almost + as much as he did a good book. + </p> + <p> + "Please don't regard the last twenty-four hours as typical of me," he said + with a chuckle. "I am so unused to being a squire of dames that perhaps I + take the responsibilities too seriously." + </p> + <p> + "Did you sleep at all last night?" I asked. I think I began to realize for + the first time that the gallant little creature had been out all night in + a drizzling rain, simply to guard me from possible annoyance; and I had + been unforgivably churlish about it. + </p> + <p> + "I found a very fine haystack in a field overlooking the quarry. I crawled + into the middle of it. A haystack is sometimes more comfortable than a + boarding-house." + </p> + <p> + "Well," I said penitently, "I can never forgive myself for the trouble + I've caused you. It was awfully good of you to do what you did. Please put + your cap on and don't catch cold." + </p> + <p> + We walked for several minutes in silence. I watched him out of the corner + of my eye. I was afraid he might have caught his death of cold from being + out all night in the wet, to say nothing of the scuffle he had had with + the tramp; but he really looked as chipper as ever. + </p> + <p> + "How do you like the wild life of a bookseller?" he said. "You must read + George Borrow. He would have enjoyed Parnassus." + </p> + <p> + "I was just thinking, when I met you, that I could write a book about my + adventures." + </p> + <p> + "Good!" he said. "We might collaborate." + </p> + <p> + "There's another thing we might collaborate on," I said, "and that's + breakfast. I'm sure you haven't had any." + </p> + <p> + "No," he said, "I don't think I have. I never lie when I know I shan't be + believed." + </p> + <p> + "I haven't had any, either," I said. I thought that to tell an untruth + would be the least thing I could do to reward the little man for his + unselfishness. + </p> + <p> + "Well," he said, "I really thought that by this time—" + </p> + <p> + He broke off. "Was that Bock barking?" he asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + We had been walking slowly, and had not yet reached the spot where the + lane branched from the main road. We were still about three quarters of a + mile from the place where I had camped overnight. We both listened + carefully, but I could hear nothing but the singing of the telephone wires + along the road. + </p> + <p> + "No matter," he said. "I thought I heard a dog." But I noticed that he + quickened his pace. + </p> + <p> + "I was saying," he continued, "that I had really thought to have lost + Parnassus for good by this morning, but I'm tickled to death to have a + chance to see her again. I hope she'll be as good a friend to you as she + has been to me. I suppose you'll sell her when you return to the Sage?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know I'm sure," I said. "I must confess I'm still a little at + sea. My desire for an adventure seems to have let me in deeper than I + expected. I begin to see that there's more in this bookselling game than I + thought. Honestly, it's getting into my blood." + </p> + <p> + "Well, that's fine," he said heartily. "I couldn't have left Parnassus in + better hands. You must let me know what you do with her, and then perhaps, + when I've finished my book, I can buy her back." + </p> + <p> + We struck off into the lane. The ground was slippery under the trees and + we went single file, Mifflin in front. I looked at my watch—it was + nine o'clock, just an hour since I had left the van. As we neared the spot + Mifflin kept looking ahead through the birch trees in a queer way. + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter?" I said. "We're almost there, aren't we?" + </p> + <p> + "We <i>are</i> there," he said. "Here's the place." + </p> + <p> + Parnassus was gone! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TEN + </h2> + <p> + We stood in complete dismay—I did, at any rate—for about as + long as it takes to peel a potato. There could be no doubt in which + direction the van had moved, for the track of the wheels was plain. It had + gone farther up the lane toward the quarry. In the earth, which was still + soggy, were a number of footprints. + </p> + <p> + "By the bones of Polycarp!" exclaimed the Professor, "those hoboes have + stolen the van. I guess they think it'll make a fine Pullman sleeper for + them. If I'd realized there was more than one of them I'd have hung around + closer. They need a lesson." + </p> + <p> + Good Lord! I thought, here's Don Quixote about to wade into another fight. + </p> + <p> + "Hadn't we better go back and get Mr. Pratt?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + This was obviously the wrong thing to say. It put the fiery little man all + the more on his mettle. His beard bristled. "Nothing of the sort!" he + said. "Those fellows are cowards and vagabonds anyway. They can't be far + off; you haven't been away more than an hour, have you? If they've done + anything to Bock, by the bones of Chaucer, I'll harry them. I <i>thought</i> + I heard him bark." + </p> + <p> + He hurried up the lane, and I followed in a panicky frame of mind. The + track wound along a hillside, between a high bank and a forest of birch + trees. I think the distance can't have been more than a quarter of a mile. + Anyway, in a very few minutes the road made a sharp twist to the right and + we found ourselves looking down into the quarry, over a sheer rocky drop + of a hundred feet at least. Below, drawn over to one side of the wall of + rock, stood Parnassus. Peg was between the shafts. Bock was nowhere to be + seen. Sitting by the van were three disreputable looking men. The smoke of + a cooking fire rose into the air; evidently they were making free with my + little larder. + </p> + <p> + "Keep back," said the Professor softly. "Don't let them see us." He + flattened himself in the grass and crawled to the edge of the cliff. I did + the same, and we lay there, invisible from below, but quite able to see + everything in the quarry. The three tramps were evidently enjoying an + excellent breakfast. + </p> + <p> + "This place is a regular hang-out for these fellows," Mifflin whispered. + "I've seen hoboes about here every year. They go into winter quarters + about the end of October, usually. There's an old blasted-out section of + this quarry that makes a sheltered dormitory for them, and as the place + isn't worked any more they're not disturbed here so long as they don't + make mischief in the neighbourhood. We'll give them...." + </p> + <p> + "Hands up!" said a rough voice behind us. I looked round. There was a fat, + red-faced villainous-looking creature covering us with a shiny revolver. + It was an awkward situation. Both the Professor and I were lying full + length on the ground. We were quite helpless. + </p> + <p> + "Get up!" said the tramp in a husky, nasty voice. "I guess youse thought + we wasn't covering our trail? Well, we'll have to tie you up, I reckon, + while we get away with this Crystal Pallis of yourn." + </p> + <p> + I scrambled to my feet, but to my surprise the Professor continued to lie + at full length. + </p> + <p> + "Get up, deacon!" said the tramp again. "Get up on them graceful limbs, <i>if</i> + you please." + </p> + <p> + I guess he thought himself safe from attack by a woman. At any rate, he + bent over as if to grab Mifflin by the neck. I saw my chance and jumped on + him from behind. I am heavy, as I have said, and he sprawled on the + ground. My doubts as to the pistol being loaded were promptly dissolved, + for it went off like a cannon. Nobody was in front of it, however, and + Mifflin was on his feet like a flash. He had the ruffian by the throat and + kicked the weapon out of his hand. I ran to seize it. + </p> + <p> + "You son of Satan!" said the valiant Redbeard. "Thought you could bully + us, did you? Miss McGill, you were as quick as Joan of Arc. Hand me the + pistol, please." + </p> + <p> + I gave it to him, and he shoved it under the hobo's nose. + </p> + <p> + "Now," he said, "take off that rag around your neck." + </p> + <p> + The rag was an old red handkerchief, inconceivably soiled. The tramp + removed it, grumbling and whining. Mifflin gave me the pistol to hold + while he tied our prisoner's wrists together. In the meantime we heard a + shout from the quarry. The three vagabonds were gazing up in great + excitement. + </p> + <p> + "You tell those fashion plates down there," said Mifflin, as he knotted + the tramp's hands together, "that if they make any fight I'll shoot them + like crows." His voice was cold and savage and he seemed quite master of + the situation, but I must confess I wondered how we could handle four of + them. + </p> + <p> + The greasy ruffian shouted down to his pals in the quarry, but I did not + hear what he said, as just then the Professor asked me to keep our captive + covered while he got a stick. I stood with the pistol pointed at his head + while Mifflin ran back into the birchwood to cut a cudgel. + </p> + <p> + The tramp's face became the colour of the under side of a fried egg as he + looked into the muzzle of his own gun. + </p> + <p> + "Say, lady," he pleaded, "that gun goes off awful easy, point her + somewhere else or you'll croak me by mistake." + </p> + <p> + I thought a good scare wouldn't do him any harm and kept the barrel + steadily on him. + </p> + <p> + The rascals down below seemed debating what to do. I don't know whether + they were armed or not; but probably they imagined that there were more + than two of us. At all events, by the time Mifflin came back with a stout + birch staff they were hustling out of the quarry on the lower side. The + Professor swore, and looked as if he would gladly give chase, but he + refrained. + </p> + <p> + "Here, you," he said in crisp tones to the tramp, "march on ahead of us, + down to the quarry." + </p> + <p> + The fat ruffian shambled awkwardly down the trail. We had to make quite a + detour to get into the quarry, and by the time we reached there the other + three tramps had got clean away. I was not sorry, to tell the truth. I + thought the Professor had had enough scrapping for one twenty-four hours. + </p> + <p> + Peg whinneyed loudly as she saw us coming, but Bock was not in sight. + </p> + <p> + "What have you done with the dog, you swine?" said Mifflin. "If you've + hurt him I'll make you pay with your own hide." + </p> + <p> + Our prisoner was completely cowed. "No, boss, we ain't hurt the dog," he + fawned. "We tied him up so he couldn't bark, that's all. He's in the + 'bus." And sure enough, by this time we could hear smothered yelping and + whining from Parnassus. + </p> + <p> + I hurried to open the door, and there was Bock, his jaws tied together + with a rope-end. He bounded out and made super-canine efforts to express + his joy at seeing the Professor again. He paid very little attention to + me. + </p> + <p> + "Well," said Mifflin, after freeing the dog's muzzle, and with difficulty + restraining him from burying his teeth in the tramp's shin, "what shall we + do with this heroic specimen of manhood? Shall we cart him over to the + jail in Port Vigor, or shall we let him go?" + </p> + <p> + The tramp burst into a whining appeal that was almost funny, it was so + abject. The Professor cut it short. + </p> + <p> + "I ought to pack you into quod," he said. "Are you the Phoebus Apollo I + scuffled with down the lane last night? Was it you skulking around this + wagon then?" + </p> + <p> + "No, boss, that was Splitlip Sam, honest to Gawd it was. He come back, + boss; said he'd been fightin' with a cat-o'-mountain! Say, boss, you sure + hit him hard. One of his lamps is a pudding! Boss, I'll swear I ain't had + nothin' to do with it." + </p> + <p> + "I don't like your society," said the Professor, "and I'm going to turn + you loose. I'm going to count ten, and if you're not out of this quarry by + then, I'll shoot. And if I see you again I'll skin you alive. Now get + out!" + </p> + <p> + He cut the knotted handkerchief in two. The hobo needed no urging. He spun + on his heel and fled like a rabbit. The Professor watched him go, and as + the fat, ungainly figure burst through a hedge and disappeared he fired + the revolver into the air to frighten him still more. Then he tossed the + weapon into the pool near by. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Miss McGill," he said with a chuckle, "if you like to undertake + breakfast, I'll fix up Peg." And he drew the horse-shoe from his pocket + once more. + </p> + <p> + A brief inspection of Parnassus satisfied me that the thieves had not had + time to do any real damage. They had got out most of the eatables and + spread them on a flat rock in preparation for a feast; and they had + tracked a good deal of mud into the van; but otherwise I could see nothing + amiss. So while Mifflin busied himself with Peg's foot it was easy for me + to get a meal under way. I found a gush of clean water trickling down the + face of the rock. There were still some eggs and bread and cheese in the + little cupboard, and an unopened tin of condensed milk. I gave Peg her + nose bag of oats, and fed Bock, who was frisking about in high spirits. By + that time the shoeing was done, and the Professor and I sat down to an + improvised meal. I was beginning to feel as if this gipsy existence were + the normal course of my life. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Professor," I said, as I handed him a cup of coffee and a plate of + scrambled eggs and cheese, "for a man who slept in a wet haystack, you + acquit yourself with excellent valour." + </p> + <p> + "Old Parnassus is quite a stormy petrel," he said. "I used to think the + chief difficulty in writing a book would be to invent things to happen, + but if I were to sit down and write the adventures I'd had with her it + would be a regular Odyssey." + </p> + <p> + "How about Peg's foot?" I asked. "Can she travel on it?" + </p> + <p> + "It'll be all right if you go easy. I've scraped out the injured part and + put the shoe back. I keep a little kit of tools under the van for + emergencies of all sorts." + </p> + <p> + It was chilly, and we didn't dawdle over our meal. I only made a feint of + eating, as I had had a little breakfast before, and also as the events of + the last few hours had left me rather restless. I wanted to get Parnassus + out on the highway again, to jog along in the sun and think things over. + The quarry was a desolate, forbidding place anyway. But before we left we + explored the cave where the tramps had been preparing to make themselves + comfortable for the winter. It was not really a cave, but only a shaft + into the granite cliff. A screen of evergreen boughs protected the opening + against the weather, and inside were piles of sacking that had evidently + been used as beds, and many old grocery boxes for tables and chairs. It + amused me to notice a cracked fragment of mirror balanced on a corner of + rock. Even these ragamuffins apparently were not totally unconscious of + personal appearance. I seized the opportunity, while the Professor was + giving Peg's foot a final look, to rearrange my hair, which was + emphatically a sight. I hardly think Andrew would have recognized me that + morning. + </p> + <p> + We led Peg up the steep incline, back into the lane where I had strayed, + and at length we reached the main road again. Here I began to lay down the + law to Redbeard. + </p> + <p> + "Now look here, Professor," I said, "I'm not going to have you tramp all + the way back to Port Vigor. After the night you've had you need a rest. + You just climb into that Parnassus and lie down for a good snooze. I'll + drive you into Woodbridge and you can take your train there. Now you get + right into that bunk. I'll sit out here and drive." + </p> + <p> + He demurred, but without much emphasis. I think the little fool was just + about fagged out, and no wonder. I was a trifle groggy myself. In the end + he was quite docile. He climbed into the van, took off his boots, and lay + down under a blanket. Bock followed him, and I think they both fell asleep + on the instant. I got on the front seat and took the reins. I didn't let + Peg go more quickly than a walk as I wanted to spare her sore foot. + </p> + <p> + My, what a morning that was after the rain! The road ran pretty close to + the shore, and every now and then I could catch a glimpse of the water. + The air was keen—not just the ordinary, unnoticed air that we + breathe in and out and don't think about, but a sharp and tingling + essence, as strong in the nostrils as camphor or ammonia. The sun seemed + focussed upon Parnassus, and we moved along the white road in a flush of + golden light. The flat fronds of the cedars swayed gently in the salty + air, and for the first time in ten years, I should think, I began amusing + myself by selecting words to describe the goodness of the morning. I even + imagined myself writing a description of it, as if I were Andrew or + Thoreau. The crazy little Professor had inoculated me with his literary + bug, I guess. + </p> + <p> + And then I did a dishonourable thing. Just by chance I put my hand into + the little pocket beside the seat where Mifflin kept a few odds and ends. + I meant to have another look at that card of his with the poem on it. And + there I found a funny, battered little notebook, evidently forgotten. On + the cover was written, in ink, "Thoughts on the Present Discontents." That + title seemed vaguely familiar. I seemed to recall something of the kind + from my school days—more than twenty years ago, goodness me! Of + course if I had been honourable I wouldn't have looked into it. But in a + kind of quibbling self-justification I recalled that I had bought + Parnassus and all it contained, "lock, stock, barrel and bung" as Andrew + used to say. And so.... + </p> + <p> + The notebook was full of little jottings, written in pencil in the + Professor's small, precise hand. The words were rubbed and soiled, but + plainly legible. I read this: + </p> + <p> + I don't suppose Bock or Peg get lonely, but by the bones of Ben Gunn, I + do. Seems silly when Herrick and Hans Andersen and Tennyson and Thoreau + and a whole wagonload of other good fellows are riding at my back. I can + hear them all talking as we trundle along. But books aren't a <i>substantial</i> + world after all, and every now and then we get hungry for some closer, + more human relationships. I've been totally alone now for eight years—except + for Runt, and he might be dead and never say so. This wandering about is + fine in its way, but it must come to an end some day. A man needs to put + down a root somewhere to be really happy. + </p> + <p> + What absurd victims of contrary desires we are! If a man is settled in one + place he yearns to wander; when he wanders he yearns to have a home. And + yet how bestial is content—all the great things in life are done by + discontented people. + </p> + <p> + There are three ingredients in the good life: learning, earning, and + yearning. A man should be learning as he goes; and he should be earning + bread for himself and others; and he should be yearning, too: yearning to + know the unknowable. + </p> + <p> + What a fine old poem is "The Pulley" by George Herbert! Those Elizabethan + fellows knew how to write! They were marred perhaps by their idea that + poems must be "witty." (Remember how Bacon said that reading poets makes + one witty? There he gave a clue to the literature of his time.) Their + fantastic puns and conceits are rather out of our fashion nowadays. But + Lord! the root of the matter was in them! How gallantly, how reverently, + they tackle the problems of life! + </p> + <p> + When God at first made man (says George Herbert) He had a "glass of + blessings standing by." So He pours on man all the blessings in His + reservoir: strength, beauty, wisdom, honour, pleasure—and then He + refrains from giving him the last of them, which is rest, i.e., + contentment. God sees that if man is contented he will never win his way + to Him. Let man be restless, so that + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "If goodness lead him not, yet weariness + May toss him to My breast." +</pre> + <p> + Some day I shall write a novel on that theme, and call it "The Pulley." In + this tragic, restless world there must be some place where at last we can + lay our heads and be at rest. Some people call it death. Some call it God. + </p> + <p> + My ideal of a man is not the Omar who wants to shatter into bits this + sorry scheme of things, and then remould it nearer to the heart's desire. + Old Omar was a coward, with his silk pajamas and his glass of wine. The + real man is George Herbert's "seasoned timber"—the fellow who does + handily and well whatever comes to him. Even if it's only shovelling coal + into a furnace he can balance the shovel neatly, swing the coal square on + the fire and not spill it on the floor. If it's only splitting kindling or + running a trolley car he can make a good, artistic job of it. If it's only + writing a book or peeling potatoes he can put into it the best he has. + Even if he's only a bald-headed old fool over forty selling books on a + country road, he can make an ideal of it. Good old Parnassus! It's a great + game.... I think I'll have to give her up soon, though: I must get that + book of mine written. But Parnassus has been a true glass of blessings to + me. + </p> + <p> + There was much more in the notebook; indeed it was half full of jotted + paragraphs, memoranda, and scraps of writing—poems I believe some of + them were—but I had seen enough. It seemed as if I had stumbled + unawares on the pathetic, brave, and lonely heart of the little man. I'm a + commonplace creature, I'm afraid, insensible to many of the deeper things + in life, but every now and then, like all of us, I come face to face with + something that thrills me. I saw how this little, red-bearded pedlar was + like a cake of yeast in the big, heavy dough of humanity: how he travelled + about trying to fulfil in his own way his ideals of beauty. I felt almost + motherly toward him: I wanted to tell him that I understood him. And in a + way I felt ashamed of having run away from my own homely tasks, my kitchen + and my hen yard and dear old, hot-tempered, absent-minded Andrew. I fell + into a sober mood. As soon as I was alone, I thought, I would sell + Parnassus and hurry back to the farm. That was my job, that was my glass + of blessings. What was I doing—a fat, middle-aged woman—trapesing + along the roads with a cartload of books I didn't understand? + </p> + <p> + I slipped the little notebook back into its hiding-place. I would have + died rather than let the Professor know I had seen it. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ELEVEN + </h2> + <p> + We were coming into Woodbridge; and I was just wondering whether to wake + the Professor when the little window behind me slid back and he stuck his + head out. + </p> + <p> + "Hello!" he said. "I think I must have been asleep!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I should hope so," I said. "You needed it." + </p> + <p> + Indeed he looked much better, and I was relieved to see it. I had been + really afraid he would be ill after sleeping out all night, but I guess he + was tougher than I thought. He joined me on the seat, and we drove into + the town. While he went to the station to ask about the trains I had a + fine time selling books. I was away from the locality where I was known, + and had no shyness in attempting to imitate Mifflin's methods. I even went + him one better by going into a hardware store where I bought a large + dinner bell. This I rang lustily until a crowd gathered, then I put up the + flaps and displayed my books. As a matter of fact, I sold only one, but I + enjoyed myself none the less. + </p> + <p> + By and by Mifflin reappeared. I think he had been to a barber: at any rate + he looked very spry: he had bought a clean collar and a flowing tie of a + bright electric blue which really suited him rather well. + </p> + <p> + "Well," he said, "the Sage is going to get back at me for that punch on + the nose! I've been to the bank to cash your check. They telephoned over + to Redfield, and apparently your brother has stopped payment on it. It's + rather awkward: they seem to think I'm a crook." + </p> + <p> + I was furious. What right had Andrew to do that? + </p> + <p> + "The brute!" I said. "What on earth shall I do?" + </p> + <p> + "I suggest that you telephone to the Redfield Bank," he said, "and + countermand your brother's instructions—that is, unless you think + you've made a mistake? I don't want to take advantage of you." + </p> + <p> + "Nonsense!" I said. "I'm not going to let Andrew spoil my holiday. That's + always his way: if he gets an idea into his head he's like a mule. I'll + telephone to Redfield, and then we'll go to see the bank here." + </p> + <p> + We put Parnassus up at the hotel, and I went to the telephone. I was + thoroughly angry at Andrew, and tried to get him on the wire first. But + Sabine Farm didn't answer. Then I telephoned to the bank in Redfield, and + got Mr. Shirley. He's the cashier, and I know him well. I guess he + recognized my voice, for he made no objection when I told him what I + wanted. + </p> + <p> + "Now you telephone to the bank in Woodbridge," I said, "and tell them to + let Mr. Mifflin have the money. I'll go there with him to identify him. + Will that be all right?" + </p> + <p> + "Perfectly," he said. The deceitful little snail! If I had only known what + he was concocting! + </p> + <p> + Mifflin said there was a train at three o'clock which he could take. We + stopped at a little lunch room for a bite to eat, then he went again to + the bank, and I with him. We asked the cashier whether they had had a + message from Redfield. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," he said. "We've just heard." And he looked at me rather queerly. + </p> + <p> + "Are you Miss McGill?" he said. + </p> + <p> + "I am," I said. + </p> + <p> + "Will you just step this way a moment?" he asked politely. + </p> + <p> + He led me into a little sitting-room and asked me to sit down. I supposed + that he was going to get some paper for me to sign, so I waited quite + patiently for several minutes. I had left the Professor at the cashier's + window, where they would give him his money. + </p> + <p> + I waited some time, and finally I got tired of looking at the Life + Insurance calendars. Then I happened to glance out of the window. Surely + that was the Professor, just disappearing round the corner with another + man? + </p> + <p> + I returned to the cashier's desk. + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter?" I said. "Your mahogany furniture is charming, but I'm + tired of it. Do I have to sit here any longer? And where's Mr. Mifflin? + Did he get his money?" + </p> + <p> + The cashier was a horrid little creature with side whiskers. + </p> + <p> + "I'm sorry you had to wait, Madam," he said. "The transaction is just + concluded. We gave Mr. Mifflin what was due him. There is no need for you + to stay longer." + </p> + <p> + I thought this was very extraordinary. Surely the Professor would not + leave without saying good-bye? However, I noticed that the clock said + three minutes to three, so I thought that perhaps he had had to run to + catch his train. He was such a strange little man, anyway.... + </p> + <p> + Well, I went back to the hotel, quite a little upset by this sudden + parting. At least I was glad the little man had got his money all right. + Probably he would write from Brooklyn, but of course I wouldn't get the + letter till I returned to the farm as that was the only address he would + have. Perhaps that wouldn't be so long after all: but I did not feel like + going back now, when Andrew had been so horrid. + </p> + <p> + I drove Parnassus on the ferry, and we crossed the river. I felt lost and + disagreeable. Even the fresh movement through the air gave me no pleasure. + Bock whined dismally inside the van. + </p> + <p> + It didn't take me long to discover that Parnassing all alone had lost some + of its charms. I missed the Professor: missed his abrupt, direct way of + saying things, and his whimsical wit. And I was annoyed by his skipping + off without a word of good-bye. It didn't seem natural. I partially + appeased my irritation by stopping at a farmhouse on the other side of the + river and selling a cook book. Then I started along the road for Bath—about + five miles farther on. Peg's foot didn't seem to bother her so I thought + it would be safe to travel that far before stopping for the night. + Counting up the days (with some difficulty: it seemed as though I had been + away from home a month), I remembered that this was Saturday night. I + thought I would stay in Bath over Sunday and get a good rest. We jogged + sedately along the road, and I got out a copy of "Vanity Fair." I was so + absorbed in Becky Sharp that I wouldn't even interrupt myself to sell + books at the houses we passed. I think reading a good book makes one + modest. When you see the marvellous insight into human nature which a + truly great book shows, it is bound to make you feel small—like + looking at the Dipper on a clear night, or seeing the winter sunrise when + you go out to collect the morning eggs. And anything that makes you feel + small is mighty good for you. + </p> + <p> + "What do you mean by a great book?" said the Professor—I mean, I + imagined him saying it. It seemed to me as if I could see him sitting + there, with his corncob pipe in his hand and that quizzical little face of + his looking sharply at me. Somehow, talking with the Professor had made me + think. He was as good as one of those Scranton correspondence courses, I + do believe, and no money to pay for postage. + </p> + <p> + Well, I said to the Professor—to myself I mean—let's see: what + <i>is</i> a good book? I don't mean books like Henry James's (he's + Andrew's great idol. It always seemed to me that he had a kind of rush of + words to the head and never stopped to sort them out properly). A good + book ought to have something simple about it. And, like Eve, it ought to + come from somewhere near the third rib: there ought to be a heart beating + in it. A story that's all forehead doesn't amount to much. Anyway, it'll + never get over at a Dorcas meeting. That was the trouble with Henry James. + Andrew talked so much about him that I took one of his books to read aloud + at our sewing circle over at Redfield. Well, after one try we had to fall + back on "Pollyanna." + </p> + <p> + I haven't been doing chores and running a farmhouse for fifteen years + without getting some ideas about life—and even about books. I + wouldn't set my lit'ry views up against yours, Professor (I was still + talking to Mifflin in my mind), no, nor even against Andrew's—but as + I say, I've got some ideas of my own. I've learned that honest work counts + in writing books just as much as it does in washing dishes. I guess + Andrew's books must be some good after all because he surely does mull + over them without end. I can forgive his being a shiftless farmer so long + as he really does his literary chores up to the hilt. A man can be slack + in everything else, if he does one thing as well as he possibly can. And I + guess it won't matter my being an ignoramus in literature so long as I'm + rated A-1 in the kitchen. That's what I used to think as I polished and + scoured and scrubbed and dusted and swept and then set about getting + dinner. If I ever sat down to read for ten minutes the cat would get into + the custard. No woman in the country sits down for fifteen consecutive + minutes between sunrise and sunset, anyway, unless she has half a dozen + servants. And nobody knows anything about literature unless he spends most + of his life sitting down. So there you are. + </p> + <p> + The cultivation of philosophic reflection was a new experience for me. Peg + ambled along contentedly and the dog trailed under Parnassus where I had + tied him. I read "Vanity Fair" and thought about all sorts of things. Once + I got out to pick some scarlet maple leaves that attracted me. The motors + passing annoyed me with their dust and noise, but by and by one of them + stopped, looked at my outfit curiously, and then asked to see some books. + I put up the flaps for them and we pulled off to one side of the road and + had a good talk. They bought two or three books, too. + </p> + <p> + By the time I neared Bath the hands of my watch pointed to supper. I was + still a bit shy of Mifflin's scheme of stopping overnight at farmhouses, + so I thought I'd go right into the town and look for a hotel. The next day + was Sunday, so it seemed reasonable to give the horse a good rest and stay + in Bath two nights. The Hominy House looked clean and old-fashioned, and + the name amused me, so in I went. It was a kind of high-class + boarding-house, with mostly old women around. It looked to me almost + literary and Elbert Hubbardish compared to the Grand Central in Shelby. + The folks there stared at me somewhat suspiciously and I half thought they + were going to say they didn't take pedlars; but when I flashed a new + five-dollar bill at the desk I got good service. A five-dollar bill is a + patent of nobility in New England. + </p> + <p> + My! how I enjoyed that creamed chicken on toast, and buckwheat cakes with + syrup! After you get used to cooking all your own grub, a meal off some + one else's stove is the finest kind of treat. After supper I was all + prepared to sit out on the porch with my sweater on and give a rocking + chair a hot box, but then I remembered that it was up to me to carry on + the traditions of Parnassus. I was there to spread the gospel of good + books. I got to thinking how the Professor never shirked carrying on his + campaign, and I determined that I would be worthy of the cause. + </p> + <p> + When I think back about the experience, it seems pretty crazy, but at the + time I was filled with a kind of evangelistic zeal. I thought if I was + going to try to sell books I might as well have some fun out of it. Most + of the old ladies were squatting about in the parlour, knitting or reading + or playing cards. In the smoking-room I could see two dried-up men. Mrs. + Hominy, the manager of the place, was sitting at her desk behind a brass + railing, going over accounts with a quill pen. I thought that the house + probably hadn't had a shock since Walt Whitman wrote "Leaves of Grass." In + a kind of do-or-die spirit I determined to give them a rouse. + </p> + <p> + In the dining-room I had noticed a huge dinner bell that stood behind the + door. I stepped in there, and got it. Standing in the big hall I began + ringing it as hard as I could shake my arm. + </p> + <p> + You might have thought it was a fire alarm. Mrs. Hominy dropped her pen in + horror. The colonial dames in the parlour came to life and ran into the + hall like cockroaches. In a minute I had gathered quite a respectable + audience. It was up to me to do the spellbinding. + </p> + <p> + "Friends," I said (unconsciously imitating the Professor's tricks of the + trade, I guess), "this bell which generally summons you to the groaning + board now calls you to a literary repast. With the permission of the + management, and with apologies for disturbing your tranquillity, I will + deliver a few remarks on the value of good books. I see that several of + you are fond of reading, so perhaps the topic will be congenial?" + </p> + <p> + They gazed at me about as warmly as a round of walnut sundaes. + </p> + <p> + "Ladies and Gentlemen," I continued, "of course you remember the story of + Abe Lincoln when he said, 'if you call a leg a tail, how many tails has a + dog?' 'Five,' you answer. Wrong; because, as Mr. Lincoln said, calling a + leg a tail...." + </p> + <p> + I still think it was a good beginning. But that was as far as I got. Mrs. + Hominy came out of her trance, hastened from the cage, and grabbed my arm. + She was quite red with anger. + </p> + <p> + "Really!" she said. "Well, really!... I must ask you to continue this in + some other place. We do not allow commercial travellers in this house." + </p> + <p> + And within fifteen minutes they had hitched up Peg and asked me to move + on. Indeed I was so taken aback by my own zeal that I could hardly + protest. In a kind of daze I found myself at the Moose Hotel, where they + assured me that they catered to mercantile people. I went straight to my + room and fell asleep as soon as I reached the straw mattress. + </p> + <p> + That was my first and only public speech. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWELVE + </h2> + <p> + The next day was Sunday, October sixth. I well remember the date. + </p> + <p> + I woke up as chipper as any Robert W. Chambers heroine. All my doubts and + depressions of the evening before had fled, and I was single-heartedly + delighted with the world and everything in it. The hotel was a poor place, + but it would have taken more than that to mar my composure. I had a + bitterly cold bath in a real country tin tub, and then eggs and pancakes + for breakfast. At the table was a drummer who sold lightning rods, and + several other travelling salesmen. I'm afraid my conversation was + consciously modelled along the line of what the Professor would have said + if he had been there, but at any rate I got along swimmingly. The + travelling men, after a moment or two of embarrassed diffidence, treated + me quite as one of themselves and asked me about my "line" with interest. + I described what I was doing and they all said they envied me my freedom + to come and go independently of trains. We talked cheerfully for a long + time, and almost without intending to, I started preaching about books. In + the end they insisted on my showing them Parnassus. We all went out to the + stable, where the van was quartered, and they browsed over the shelves. + Before I knew it I had sold five dollars' worth, although I had decided + not to do any business at all on Sunday. But I couldn't refuse to sell + them the stuff as they all seemed so keen on getting something really good + to read. One man kept on talking about Harold Bell Wright, but I had to + admit that I hadn't heard of him. Evidently the Professor hadn't stocked + any of his works. I was tickled to see that after all little Redbeard + didn't know <i>everything</i> about literature. + </p> + <p> + After that I debated whether to go to church or to write letters. Finally + I decided in favour of the letters. First I tackled Andrew. I wrote: + </p> + <p> + The Moose Hotel, Bath, Sunday morning. + </p> + <h3> + DEAR ANDREW: + </h3> + <p> + It seems absurd to think that it's only three days since I left Sabine + Farm. Honestly, more has happened to me in these three days than in three + years at home. + </p> + <p> + I'm sorry that you and Mr. Mifflin disagreed but I quite understood your + feelings. But I'm very angry that you should have tried to stop that check + I gave him. It was none of your business, Andrew. I telephoned Mr. Shirley + and made him send word to the bank in Woodbridge to give Mifflin the + money. Mr. Mifflin did not swindle me into buying Parnassus. I did it of + my own free will. If you want to know the truth, it was your fault! I + bought it because I was scared <i>you</i> would if I didn't. And I didn't + want to be left all alone on the farm from now till Thanksgiving while you + went off on another trip. So I decided to do the thing myself. I thought + I'd see how you would like being left all alone to run the house. I + thought it'd be pretty nice for me to get things off my mind a while and + have an adventure of my own. + </p> + <p> + Now, Andrew, here are some directions for you: + </p> + <p> + 1. Don't forget to feed the chickens twice a day, and collect <i>all</i> + the eggs. There's a nest behind the wood pile, and some of the Wyandottes + have been laying under the ice house. + </p> + <p> + 2. Don't let Rosie touch grandmother's blue china, because she'll break it + as sure as fate if she lays her big, thick Swedish fingers on it. + </p> + <p> + 3. Don't forget your warmer underwear. The nights are getting chilly. + </p> + <p> + 4. I forgot to put the cover on the sewing machine. Please do that for me + or it'll get all dusty. + </p> + <p> + 5. Don't let the cat run loose in the house at night: he always breaks + something. + </p> + <p> + 6. Send your socks and anything else that needs darning over to Mrs. + McNally, she can do it for you. + </p> + <p> + 7. Don't forget to feed the pigs. + </p> + <p> + 8. Don't forget to mend the weathervane on the barn. + </p> + <p> + 9. Don't forget to send that barrel of apples over to the cider mill or + you won't have any cider to drink when Mr. Decameron comes up to see us + later in the fall. + </p> + <p> + 10. Just to make ten commandments, I'll add one more: You might 'phone to + Mrs. Collins that the Dorcas will have to meet at some one else's house + next week, because I don't know just when I'll get back. I may be away a + fortnight more. This is my first holiday in a long time and I'm going to + chew it before I swallow it. + </p> + <p> + The Professor (Mr. Mifflin, I mean) has gone back to Brooklyn to work on + his book. I'm sorry you and he had to mix it up on the high road like a + couple of hooligans. He's a nice little man and you'd like him if you got + to know him. + </p> + <p> + I'm spending Sunday in Bath: to-morrow I'm going on toward Hastings. I've + sold five dollars' worth of books this morning even if it is Sunday. + </p> + <p> + Your affte sister HELEN McGiLL. + </p> + <p> + P.S. Don't forget to clean the separator after using it, or it'll get in a + fearful state. + </p> + <p> + After writing to Andrew I thought I would send a message to the Professor. + I had already written him a long letter in my mind, but somehow when I + began putting it on paper a sort of awkwardness came over me. I didn't + know just how to begin. I thought how much more fun it would be if he were + there himself and I could listen to him talk. And then, while I was + writing the first few sentences, some of the drummers came back into the + room. + </p> + <p> + "Thought you'd like to see a Sunday paper," said one of them. + </p> + <p> + I picked up the newspaper with a word of thanks and ran an eye over the + headlines. The ugly black letters stood up before me, and my heart gave a + great contraction. I felt my fingertips turn cold. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DISASTROUS WRECK + ON THE SHORE LINE + EXPRESS RUNS INTO OPEN SWITCH + — + TEN LIVES LOST, AND + MORE THAN A SCORE INJURED + — + FAILURE OF BLOCK SIGNALS +</pre> + <p> + The letters seemed to stand up before me as large as a Malted Milk + signboard. With a shuddering apprehension I read the details. Apparently + the express that left Providence at four o'clock on Saturday afternoon had + crashed into an open siding near Willdon about six o'clock, and collided + with a string of freight empties. The baggage car had been demolished and + the smoker had turned over and gone down an embankment. There were ten men + killed... my head swam. Was that the train the Professor had taken? Let me + see. He left Woodbridge on a local train at three. He had said the day + before that the express left Port Vigor at five.... If he had changed to + the express..... + </p> + <p> + In a kind of fascinated horror my eye caught the list of the dead. I ran + down the names. Thank God, no, Mifflin was not among them. Then I saw the + last entry: + </p> + <h3> + UNIDENTIFIED MAN, MIDDLE-AGED. + </h3> + <p> + What if that should be the Professor? + </p> + <p> + And I suddenly felt dizzy, and for the first time in my life I fainted. + </p> + <p> + Thank goodness, no one else was in the room. The drummers had gone outside + again, and no one heard me flop off the chair. I came to in a moment, my + heart whirling like a spinning top. At first I did not realize what was + wrong. Then my eye fell on the newspaper again. Feverishly I re-read the + account, and the names of the injured, too, which I had missed before. + Nowhere was there a name I knew. But the tragic words "unidentified man" + danced before my eyes. Oh! if it were the Professor.... + </p> + <p> + In a wave the truth burst upon me. I loved that little man: I loved him, I + loved him. He had brought something new into my life, and his brave, + quaint ways had warmed my fat old heart. For the first time, in an + intolerable gush of pain, I seemed to know that my life could never again + be endurable without him. And now—what was I to do? + </p> + <p> + How could I learn the truth? Certainly if he <i>had</i> been on the train, + and had escaped from the wreck unhurt, he would have sent a message to + Sabine Farm to let me know. At any rate, that was a possibility. I rushed + to the telephone to call up Andrew. + </p> + <p> + Oh! the agonizing slowness of telephone connections when urgent hurry is + needed! My voice shook as I said "Redfield 158 J" to the operator. + Throbbing with nervousness I waited to hear the familiar click of the + receiver at the other end. I could hear the Redfield switchboard receive + the call, and put in the plug to connect with our wire. In imagination I + could see the telephone against the wall in the old hallway at Sabine + Farm. I could see the soiled patch of plaster where Andrew rests his elbow + when he talks into the 'phone, and the place where he jots numbers down in + pencil and I rub them off with bread crumbs. I could see Andrew coming out + of the sitting-room to answer the bell. And then the operator said + carelessly, "Doesn't answer." My forehead was wet as I came out of the + booth. + </p> + <p> + I hope I may never have to re-live the horrors of the next hour. In spite + of my bluff and hearty ways, in times of trouble I am as reticent as a + clam. I was determined to hide my agony and anxiety from the well-meaning + people of the Moose Hotel. I hurried to the railway station to send a + telegram to the Professor's address in Brooklyn, but found the place + closed. A boy told me it would not be open until the afternoon. From a + drugstore I called "information" in Willdon, and finally got connected + with some undertaker to whom the Willdon operator referred me. A horrible, + condoling voice (have you ever talked to an undertaker over the + telephone?) answered me that no one by the name of Mifflin had been among + the dead, but admitted that there was one body still unidentified. He used + one ghastly word that made me shudder—unrecognizable. I rang off. + </p> + <p> + I knew then for the first time the horror of loneliness. I thought of the + poor little man's notebook that I had seen. I thought of his fearless and + lovable ways—of his pathetic little tweed cap, of the missing button + of his jacket, of the bungling darns on his frayed sleeve. It seemed to me + that heaven could mean nothing more than to roll creaking along country + roads, in Parnassus, with the Professor beside me on the seat. What if I + had known him only—how long was it? He had brought the splendour of + an ideal into my humdrum life. And now—had I lost it forever? Andrew + and the farm seemed faint and far away. I was a homely old woman, mortally + lonely and helpless. In my perplexity I walked to the outskirts of the + village and burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + Finally I got a grip on myself again. I am not ashamed to say that I now + admitted frankly what I had been hiding from myself. I was in love—in + love with a little, red-bearded bookseller who seemed to me more splendid + than Sir Galahad. And I vowed that if he would have me, I would follow him + to the other end of nowhere. + </p> + <p> + I walked back to the hotel. I thought I would make one more try to get + Andrew on the telephone. My whole soul quivered when at last I heard the + receiver click. + </p> + <p> + "Hello?" said Andrew's voice. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Andrew," I said, "this is Helen." + </p> + <p> + "Where are you?" (His voice sounded cross.) + </p> + <p> + "Andrew, is there any—any message from Mr. Mifflin? That wreck + yesterday—he might have been on that train—I've been so + frightened; do you think he was—hurt?" + </p> + <p> + "Stuff and nonsense," said Andrew. "If you want to know about Mifflin, + he's in jail in Port Vigor." + </p> + <p> + And then I think Andrew must have been surprised. I began to laugh and cry + simultaneously, and in my agitation I set down the receiver. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTEEN + </h2> + <p> + My first impulse was to hide myself in some obscure corner where I could + vent my feelings without fear or favour. I composed my face as well as I + could before leaving the 'phone booth; then I sidled across the lobby and + slipped out of the side door. I found my way into the stable, where good + old Peg was munching in her stall. The fine, homely smell of horseflesh + and long-worn harness leather went right to my heart, and while Bock + frisked at my knees I laid my head on Peg's neck and cried. I think that + fat old mare understood me. She was as tubby and prosaic and middle-aged + as I—but she loved the Professor. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Andrew's words echoed again in my mind. I had barely heeded them + before, in the great joy of my relief, but now their significance came to + me. "In jail." The Professor in jail! That was the meaning of his strange + disappearance at Woodbridge. That little brute of a man Shirley must have + telephoned from Redfield, and when the Professor came to the Woodbridge + bank to cash that check they had arrested him. That was why they had + shoved me into that mahogany sitting-room. Andrew must be behind this. The + besotted old fool! My face burned with anger and humiliation. + </p> + <p> + I never knew before what it means to be really infuriated. I could feel my + brain tingle. The Professor in jail! The gallant, chivalrous little man, + penned up with hoboes and sneak thieves suspected of being a crook... as + if I couldn't take care of myself! What did they think he was, anyway? A + kidnapper? + </p> + <p> + Instantly I decided I would hurry back to Port Vigor without delay. If + Andrew had had the Professor locked up, it could only be on the charge of + defrauding me. Certainly it couldn't be for giving him a bloody nose on + the road from Shelby. And if I appeared to deny the charge, surely they + would have to let Mr. Mifflin go. + </p> + <p> + I believe I must have been talking to myself in Peg's stall—at any + rate, just at this moment the stableman appeared and looked very + bewildered when he saw me, with flushed face and in obvious excitement, + talking to the horse. I asked him when was the next train to Port Vigor. + </p> + <p> + "Well, ma'am," he said, "they say that all the local trains is held up + till the wreck at Willdon's cleared away. This being Sunday, I don't think + you'll get anything from here until to-morrow morning." + </p> + <p> + I reflected. It wasn't so awfully far back to Port Vigor. A flivver from + the local garage could spin me back there in a couple of hours at the + most. But somehow it seemed more fitting to go to the Professor's rescue + in his own Parnassus, even if it would take longer to get there. To tell + the truth, while I was angry and humiliated at the thought of his being + put in jail by Andrew, I couldn't help, deep down within me, being rather + thankful. Suppose he had been in the wreck? The Sage of Redfield had + played the part of Providence after all. And if I set out right away with + Parnassus, I could get to Port Vigor—well, by Monday morning anyway. + </p> + <p> + The good people of the Moose Hotel were genuinely surprised at the hurry + with which I dispatched my lunch. But I gave them no explanations. + Goodness knows, my head was full of other thoughts and the apple sauce + might have been asbestos. You know, a woman only falls in love once in her + life, and if it waits until she's darn near forty—well, it <i>takes!</i> + You see I hadn't even been vaccinated against it by girlish flirtations. I + began to be a governess when I was just a kid, and a governess doesn't get + many chances to be skittish. So now when it came, it hit me hard. That's + when a woman finds herself—when she's in love. I don't care if she + <i>is</i> old or fat or homely or prosy. She feels that little flutter + under her ribs and she drops from the tree like a ripe plum. I didn't care + if Roger Mifflin and I were as odd a couple as old Dr. Johnson and his + wife, I only knew one thing: that when I saw that little red devil again I + was going to be all his—if he'd have me. That's why the old Moose + Hotel in Bath is always sacred to me. That's where I learned that life + still held something fresh for me—something better than baking + champlain biscuits for Andrew. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + That Sunday was one of those mellow, golden days that we New Englanders + get in October. The year really begins in March, as every farmer knows, + and by the end of September or the beginning of October the season has + come to its perfect, ripened climax. There are a few days when the world + seems to hang still in a dreaming, sweet hush, at the very fulness of the + fruit before the decline sets in. I have no words (like Andrew) to + describe it, but every autumn for years I have noticed it. I remember that + sometimes at the farm I used to lean over the wood pile for a moment just + before supper to watch those purple October sunsets. I would hear the + sharp ting of Andrew's little typewriter bell as he was working in his + study. And then I would try to swallow down within me the beauty and + wistfulness of it all, and run back to mash the potatoes. + </p> + <p> + Peg drew Parnassus along the backward road with a merry little rumble. I + think she knew we were going back to the Professor. Bock careered mightily + along the wayside. And I had much time for thinking. On the whole, I was + glad; for I had much to ponder. An adventure that had started as a mere + lark or whim had now become for me the very gist of life itself. I was + fanciful, I guess, and as romantic as a young hen, but by the bones of + George Eliot, I'm sorry for the woman that never has a chance to be + fanciful. Mifflin was in jail; aye, but he might have been dead and—unrecognizable! + My heart refused to be altogether sad. I was on my way to deliver him from + durance vile. There seemed a kinship between the season and myself, I + mused, seeing the goldenrod turning bronze and droopy along the way. Here + was I, in the full fruition of womanhood, on the verge of my decline into + autumn, and lo! by the grace of God, I had found my man, my master. He had + touched me with his own fire and courage. I didn't care what happened to + Andrew, or to Sabine Farm, or to anything else in the world. Here were my + hearth and my home—Parnassus, or wherever Roger should pitch his + tent. I dreamed of crossing the Brooklyn Bridge with him at dusk, watching + the skyscrapers etched against a burning sky. I believed in calling things + by their true names. Ink is ink, even if the bottle is marked "commercial + fluid." I didn't try to blink the fact that I was in love. In fact, I + gloried in it. As Parnassus rolled along the road, and the scarlet maple + leaves eddied gently down in the blue October air, I made up a kind of + chant which I called + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hymn for a Middle-Aged Woman (Fat) + Who Has Fallen into Love + + O God, I thank Thee who sent this great adventure my way! + I am grateful to have come out of the barren land of + spinsterhood, seeing the glory of a love greater than myself. + I thank Thee for teaching me that mixing, and kneading, and + baking are not all that life holds for me. Even if he doesn't + love me, God, I shall always be his. +</pre> + <p> + I was crooning some such babble as this to myself when, near Woodbridge, I + came upon a big, shiny motor car stranded by the roadside. Several people, + evidently intelligent and well-to-do, sat under a tree while their + chauffeur fussed with a tire. I was so absorbed in my own thoughts that I + think I should have gone by without paying them much heed, but suddenly I + remembered the Professor's creed—to preach the gospel of books in + and out of season. Sunday or no Sunday, I thought I could best honour + Mifflin by acting on his own principle. I pulled up by the side of the + road. + </p> + <p> + I noticed the people turn to one another in a kind of surprise, and + whisper something. There was an elderly man with a lean, hard-worked face; + a stout woman, evidently his wife; and two young girls and a man in + golfing clothes. Somehow the face of the older man seemed familiar. I + wondered whether he were some literary friend of Andrew's whose photo I + had seen. + </p> + <p> + Bock stood by the wheel with his long, curly tongue running in and out + over his teeth. I hesitated a moment, thinking just how to phrase my + attack, when the elderly gentleman called out: + </p> + <p> + "Where's the Professor?" + </p> + <p> + I was beginning to realize that Mifflin was indeed a public character. + </p> + <p> + "Heavens!" I said. "Do you know him, too?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I should think so," he said. "Didn't he come to see me last spring + about an appropriation for school libraries, and wouldn't leave till I'd + promised to do what he wanted! He stayed the night with us and we talked + literature till four o'clock in the morning. Where is he now? Have you + taken over Parnassus?" + </p> + <p> + "Just at present," I said, "Mr. Mifflin is in the jail at Port Vigor." + </p> + <p> + The ladies gave little cries of astonishment, and the gentleman himself (I + had sized him up as a school commissioner or something of that sort) + seemed not less surprised. + </p> + <p> + "In jail!" he said. "What on earth for? Has he sandbagged somebody for + reading Nick Carter and Bertha M. Clay? That's about the only crime he'd + be likely to commit." + </p> + <p> + "He's supposed to have cozened me out of four hundred dollars," I said, + "and my brother has had him locked up. But as a matter of fact he wouldn't + swindle a hen out of a new-laid egg. I bought Parnassus of my own free + will. I'm on my way to Port Vigor now to get him out. Then I'm going to + ask him to marry me—if he will. It's not leap year, either." + </p> + <p> + He looked at me, his thin, lined face working with friendliness. He was a + fine-looking man—short, gray hair brushed away from a broad, brown + forehead. I noticed his rich, dark suit and the spotless collar. This was + a man of breeding, evidently. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Madam," he said, "any friend of the Professor is a friend of ours." + (His wife and the girls chimed in with assent.) "If you would like a lift + in our car to speed you on your errand, I'm sure Bob here would be glad to + drive Parnassus into Port Vigor. Our tire will soon be mended." + </p> + <p> + The young man assented heartily, but as I said before, I was bent on + taking Parnassus back myself. I thought the sight of his own tabernacle + would be the best balm for Mifflin's annoying experience. So I refused the + offer, and explained the situation a little more fully. + </p> + <p> + "Well," he said, "then let me help in any way I can." He took a card from + his pocket-book and scribbled something on it. "When you get to Port + Vigor," he said, "show this at the jail and I don't think you'll have any + trouble. I happen to know the people there." + </p> + <p> + So after a hand-shake all round I went on again, much cheered by this + friendly little incident. It wasn't till I was some way along the road + that I thought of looking at the card he had given me. Then I realized why + the man's face had been familiar. The card read quite simply: + </p> + <h3> + RALEIGH STONE STAFFORD + </h3> + <p> + The Executive Mansion, Darlington. + </p> + <p> + It was the Governor of the State! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOURTEEN + </h2> + <p> + I couldn't help chuckling, as Parnassus came over the brow of the hill, + and I saw the river in the distance once more. How different all this was + from my girlhood visions of romance. That has been characteristic of my + life all along—it has been full of homely, workaday happenings, and + often rather comic in spite of my best resolves to be highbrow and + serious. All the same I was something near to tears as I thought of the + tragic wreck at Willdon and the grief-laden hearts that must be mourning. + I wondered whether the Governor was now returning from Willdon after + ordering an inquiry. + </p> + <p> + On his card he had written: "Please release R. Mifflin at once and show + this lady all courtesies." So I didn't anticipate any particular trouble. + This made me all the more anxious to push on, and after crossing the ferry + we halted in Woodbridge only long enough for supper. I drove past the bank + where I had waited in the anteroom, and would have been glad of a chance + to horsewhip that sneaking little cashier. I wondered how they had + transported the Professor to Port Vigor, and thought ironically that it + was only that Saturday morning when he had suggested taking the hoboes to + the same jail. Still I do not doubt that his philosophic spirit had made + the best of it all. + </p> + <p> + Woodbridge was as dead as any country town is on Sunday night. At the + little hotel where I had supper there was no topic of conversation except + the wreck. But the proprietor, when I paid my bill, happened to notice + Parnassus in the yard. + </p> + <p> + "That's the bus that pedlar sold you, ain't it?" he asked with a leer. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," I said, shortly. + </p> + <p> + "Goin' back to prosecute him, I guess?" he suggested. "Say, that feller's + a devil, believe <i>me</i>. When the sheriff tried to put the cuffs on him + he gave him a black eye and pretty near broke his jaw. Some scrapper fer a + midget!" + </p> + <p> + My own brave little fighter, I thought, and flushed with pride. + </p> + <p> + The road back to Port Vigor seemed endless. I was a little nervous, + remembering the tramps in Pratt's quarry, but with Bock sitting beside me + on the seat I thought it craven to be alarmed. We rumbled gently through + the darkness, between aisles of inky pines where the strip of starlight + ran like a ribbon overhead, then on the rolling dunes that overlook the + water. There was a moon, too, but I was mortally tired and lonely and + longed only to see my little Redbeard. Peg was weary, too, and plodded + slowly. It must have been midnight before we saw the red and green lights + of the railway signals and I knew that Port Vigor was at hand. + </p> + <p> + I decided to camp where I was. I guided Peg into a field beside the road, + hitched her to a fence, and took the dog into the van with me. I was too + tired to undress. I fell into the bunk and drew the blankets over me. As I + did so, something dropped down behind the bunk with a sharp rap. It was a + forgotten corncob pipe of the Professor's, blackened and sooty. I put it + under my pillow, and fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + Monday, October seventh. If this were a novel about some charming, + slender, pansy-eyed girl, how differently I would have to describe the + feelings with which I woke the next morning. But these being only a few + pages from the life of a fat, New England housewife, I must be candid. I + woke feeling dull and sour. The day was gray and cool: faint shreds of + mist sifting up from the Sound and a desolate mewing of seagulls in the + air. I was unhappy, upset, and—yes—shy. Passionately I yearned + to run to the Professor, to gather him into my arms, to be alone with him + in Parnassus, creaking up some sunny by-road. But his words came back to + me: I was nothing to him. What if he didn't love me after all? + </p> + <p> + I walked across two fields, down to the beach where little waves were + slapping against the shingle. I washed my face and hands in salt water. + Then I went back to Parnassus and brewed some coffee with condensed milk. + I gave Peg and Bock their breakfasts. Then I hitched Peg to the van again, + and felt better. As I drove into the town I had to wait at the grade + crossing while a wrecking train rumbled past, on its way back from + Willdon. That meant that the line was clear again. I watched the grimy men + on the cars, and shuddered to think what they had been doing. + </p> + <p> + The Vigor county jail lies about a mile out of the town, an ugly, gray + stone barracks with a high, spiked wall about it. I was thankful that it + was still fairly early in the morning, and I drove through the streets + without seeing any one I knew. Finally I reached the gate in the prison + wall. Here some kind of a keeper barred my way. "Can't get in, lady," he + said. "Yesterday was visitors' day. No more visitors till next month." + </p> + <p> + "I <i>must</i> get in," I said. "You've got a man in there on a false + charge." + </p> + <p> + "So they all say," he retorted, calmly, and spat halfway across the road. + "You wouldn't believe any of our boarders had a right to be here if you + could hear their friends talk." + </p> + <p> + I showed him Governor Stafford's card. He was rather impressed by this, + and retired into a sentry-box in the wall—to telephone, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + Presently he came back. + </p> + <p> + "The sheriff says he'll see you, ma'am. But you'll have to leave this here + dynamite caboose behind." He unlocked a little door in the immense iron + gate, and turned me over to another man inside. "Take this here lady to + the sheriff," he said. + </p> + <p> + Some of Vigor county's prisoners must have learned to be pretty good + gardeners, for certainly the grounds were in good condition. The grass was + green and trimly mowed; there were conventional beds of flowers in very + ugly shapes; in the distance I saw a gang of men in striped overalls + mending a roadway. The guide led me to an attractive cottage to one side + of the main building. There were two children playing outside, and I + remember thinking that within the walls of a jail was surely a queer place + to bring up youngsters. + </p> + <p> + But I had other things to think about. I looked up at that grim, gray + building. Behind one of those little barred windows was the Professor. I + should have been angry at Andrew, but somehow it all seemed a kind of + dream. Then I was taken into the hallway of the sheriff's cottage and in a + minute I was talking to a big, bull-necked man with a political moustache. + </p> + <p> + "You have a prisoner here called Roger Mifflin?" I said. + </p> + <p> + "My dear Madam, I don't keep a list of all our inmates in my head. If you + will come to the office we will look up the records." + </p> + <p> + I showed him the Governor's card. He took it and kept looking at it as + though he expected to see the message written there change or fade away. + We walked across a strip of lawn to the prison building. There, in a big + bare office, he ran over a card index. + </p> + <p> + "Here we are," he said. "Roger Mifflin; age, 41; face, oval; complexion, + florid; hair, red but not much of it; height, 64 inches; weight, stripped, + 120; birthmark...." + </p> + <p> + "Never mind," I said. "That's the man. What's he here for?" + </p> + <p> + "He's held in default of bail, pending trial. The charge is attempt to + defraud one Helen McGill, spinster, age..." + </p> + <p> + "Rubbish!" I said. "I'm Helen McGill, and the man made no attempt to + defraud me." + </p> + <p> + "The charge was entered and warrant applied for by your brother, Andrew + McGill, acting on your behalf." + </p> + <p> + "I never authorized Andrew to act on my behalf." + </p> + <p> + "Then do you withdraw the charge?" + </p> + <p> + "By all means," I said. "I've a great mind to enter a counter-charge + against Andrew and have <i>him</i> arrested." + </p> + <p> + "This is all very irregular," said the sheriff, "but if the prisoner is + known to the Governor, I suppose there is no alternative. I cannot annul + the warrant without some recognizance. According to the laws of this State + the next of kin must stand surety for the prisoner's good behaviour after + release. There is no next of kin...." + </p> + <p> + "Surely there is!" I said. "I am the prisoner's next of kin." + </p> + <p> + "What do you mean?" he said. "In what relationship do you stand to this + Roger Mifflin?" + </p> + <p> + "I intend to marry him just as soon as I can get him away from here." + </p> + <p> + He burst into a roar of laughter. "I guess there's no stopping you," he + said. He pinned the Governor's card to a blue paper on the desk, and began + filling in some blanks. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Miss McGill," he went on, "don't take away more than one of my + prisoners or I'll lose my job. The turnkey will take you up to the cell. + I'm exceedingly sorry: you can see that the mistake was none of our fault. + Tell the Governor that, will you, when you see him?" + </p> + <p> + I followed the attendant up two flights of bare, stone stairs, and down a + long, whitewashed corridor. It was a gruesome place; rows and rows of + heavy doors with little, barred windows. I noticed that each door had a + combination knob, like a safe. My knees felt awfully shaky. + </p> + <p> + But it wasn't really so heart-throbby as I had expected. The jailer + stopped at the end of a long passageway. He spun the clicking dial, while + I waited in a kind of horror. I think I expected to see the Professor with + shaved head (they couldn't shave much off his head, poor lamb!) and + striped canvas suit, and a ball and chain on his ankle. + </p> + <p> + The door swung open heavily. There was a narrow, clean little room with a + low camp bed, and under the barred window a table strewn with sheets of + paper. It was the Professor in his own clothes, writing busily, with his + back toward me. Perhaps he thought it was only an attendant with food, or + perhaps he didn't even hear the interruption. I could hear his pen running + busily. I might have known you never would get any heroics out of that + man! Trust him to make the best of it! + </p> + <p> + "Lemon sole and a glass of sherry, please, James," said the Professor over + his shoulder, and the warder, who evidently had joked with him before, + broke into a cackle of laughter. + </p> + <p> + "A lady to see yer Lordship," he said. + </p> + <p> + The Professor turned round. His face went quite white. For the first time + in my experience of him he seemed to be at a loss for speech. + </p> + <p> + "Miss—Miss McGill," he stammered. "You <i>are</i> the good + Samaritan. I'm doing the John Bunyan act, see? Writing in prison. I've + really started my book at last. And I find the fellows here know nothing + whatever about literature. There isn't even a library in the place." + </p> + <p> + For the life of me, I couldn't utter the tenderness in my heart with that + gorilla of a jailer standing behind us. + </p> + <p> + Somehow we made our way downstairs, after the Professor had gathered + together the sheets of his manuscript. It had already reached formidable + proportions, as he had written fifty pages in the thirty-six hours he had + been in prison. In the office we had to sign some papers. The sheriff was + very apologetic to Mifflin, and offered to take him back to town in his + car, but I explained that Parnassus was waiting at the gate. The + Professor's eyes brightened when he heard that, but I had to hurry him + away from an argument about putting good books in prisons. The sheriff + walked with us to the gate and there shook hands again. + </p> + <p> + Peg whickered as we came up to her, and the Professor patted her soft + nose. Bock tugged at his chain in a frenzy of joy. At last we were alone. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIFTEEN + </h2> + <p> + I never knew just how it happened. Instead of driving back through Port + Vigor, we turned into a side road leading up over the hill and across the + heath where the air came fresh and sweet from the sea. The Professor sat + very silent, looking about him. There was a grove of birches on the hill, + and the sunlight played upon their satin boles. + </p> + <p> + "It feels good to be out again," he said calmly. "The Sage cannot be so + keen a lover of open air as his books would indicate, or he wouldn't be so + ready to clap a man into quod. Perhaps I owe him another punch on the nose + for that." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Roger," I said—and I'm afraid my voice was trembly—"I'm + <i>sorry</i>. I'm <i>sorry</i>." + </p> + <p> + Not very eloquent, was it? And then, somehow or other, his arm was around + me. + </p> + <p> + "Helen," he said. "Will you marry me? I'm not rich, but I've saved up + enough to live on. We'll always have Parnassus, and this winter we'll go + and live in Brooklyn and write the book. And we'll travel around with Peg, + and preach the love of books and the love of human beings. Helen—you're + just what I need, God bless you. Will you come with me and make me the + happiest bookseller in the world?" + </p> + <p> + Peg must have been astonished at the length of time she had for cropping + the grass, undisturbed. I know that Roger and I sat careless of time. And + when he told me that ever since our first afternoon together he had + determined to have me, sooner or later, I was the proudest woman in New + England. I told Roger about the ghastly wreck, and my agony of + apprehension. I think it was the wreck that made us both feel inclined to + forgive Andrew. + </p> + <p> + We had a light luncheon together there on the dunes above the Sound. By + taking a short cut over the ridge we struck into the Shelby road without + going down into Port Vigor again. Peg pulled us along toward Greenbriar, + and we talked as we went. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the best of it was that a cold drizzle of rain began to fall as we + moved along the hill road. The Professor—as I still call him, by + force of habit—curtained in the front of the van with a rubber + sheet. Bock hopped up and curled himself aginst his master's leg. Roger + got out his corncob pipe, and I sat close to him. In the gathering gloom + we plodded along, as happy a trio—or quartet, if you include fat, + cheery old Peg—as any on this planet. Summer was over, and we were + no longer young, but there were great things before us. I listened to the + drip of the rain, and the steady creak of Parnassus on her axles. I + thought of my "anthology" of loaves of bread and vowed to bake a million + more if Roger wanted me to. It was after supper time when we got to + Greenbriar. Roger had suggested that we take a shorter road that would + have brought us through to Redfield sooner, but I begged him to go by way + of Shelby and Greenbriar, just as we had come before. I did not tell him + why I wanted this. And when finally we came to a halt in front of Kirby's + store at the crossroads it was raining heavily and we were ready for a + rest. + </p> + <p> + "Well, sweetheart," said Roger, "shall we go and see what sort of rooms + the hotel has?" + </p> + <p> + "I can think of something better than that," said I. "Let's go up to Mr. + Kane and have him marry us. Then we can get back to Sabine Farm afterward, + and give Andrew a surprise." + </p> + <p> + "By the bones of Hymen!" said Roger. "You're right!" + </p> + <p> + It must have been ten o'clock when we turned in at the red gate of Sabine + Farm. The rain had stopped, but the wheels sloshed through mud and water + at every turn. The light was burning in the sitting-room, and through the + window I could see Andrew bent over his work table. We climbed out, stiff + and sore from the long ride. I saw Roger's face set in a comical blend of + sternness and humour. + </p> + <p> + "Well, here goes to surprise the Sage!" he whispered. + </p> + <p> + We picked our way between puddles and rapped on the door. Andrew appeared, + carrying the lamp in one hand. When he saw us he grunted. + </p> + <p> + "Let me introduce my wife," said Roger. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I'll be damned," said Andrew. + </p> + <p> + But Andrew isn't quite so black as I've painted him. When he's once + convinced of the error of his ways, he is almost pathetically eager to + make up. I remember only one remark in the subsequent conversation, + because I was so appalled by the state of everything at Sabine Farm that I + immediately set about putting the house to rights. The two men, however, + as soon as Parnassus was housed in the barn and the animals under cover, + sat down by the stove to talk things over. + </p> + <p> + "I tell you what," said Andrew—"do whatever you like with your wife; + she's too much for me. But I'd like to buy that Parnassus." + </p> + <p> + "Not on your life!" said the Professor. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Parnassus on Wheels, by Christopher Morley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARNASSUS ON WHEELS *** + +***** This file should be named 5311-h.htm or 5311-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/1/5311/ + +Etext produced by Andrew Sly + +HTML file produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Parnassus on Wheels + +Author: Christopher Morley + +Posting Date: August 29, 2012 [EBook #5311] +Release Date: March, 2004 +First Posted: June 29, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARNASSUS ON WHEELS *** + + + + +Produced by Andrew Sly + + + + + + + + + + + +PARNASSUS ON WHEELS + +BY + +CHRISTOPHER MORLEY + + +To H.B.F. and H.F.M. +"Trusty, dusky, vivid, true" + + +A LETTER TO +David Grayson, Esq. +OF HEMPFIELD, U.S.A. + + +MY DEAR SIR, + +Although my name appears on the title page, the real author of this +book is Miss Helen McGill (now Mrs. Roger Mifflin), who told me the +story with her own inimitable vivacity. And on her behalf I want to +send to you these few words of acknowledgment. + +Mrs. Mifflin, I need hardly say, is unskilled in the arts of +authorship: this is her first book, and I doubt whether she will +ever write another. She hardly realized, I think, how much her +story owes to your own delightful writings. There used to be a +well-thumbed copy of "Adventures in Contentment" on her table at the +Sabine Farm, and I have seen her pick it up, after a long day in +the kitchen, read it with chuckles, and say that the story of you +and Harriet reminded her of herself and Andrew. She used to mutter +something about "Adventures in Discontentment" and ask why Harriet's +side of the matter was never told? And so when her own adventure +came to pass, and she was urged to put it on paper, I think she +unconsciously adopted something of the manner and matter that you +have made properly yours. + +Surely, sir, you will not disown so innocent a tribute! At any rate, +Miss Harriet Grayson, whose excellent qualities we have all so long +admired, will find in Mrs. Mifflin a kindred spirit. + +Mrs. Mifflin would have said this for herself, with her characteristic +definiteness of speech, had she not been out of touch with her +publishers and foolscap paper. She and the Professor are on their +Parnassus, somewhere on the high roads, happily engrossed in the +most godly diversion known to man--selling books. And I venture +to think that there are no volumes they take more pleasure in +recommending than the wholesome and invigorating books which bear +your name. + +Believe me, dear Mr. Grayson, with warm regards, + +Faithfully yours, +CHRISTOPHER MORLEY. + + + +CHAPTER ONE + + +I wonder if there isn't a lot of bunkum in higher education? I never +found that people who were learned in logarithms and other kinds of +poetry were any quicker in washing dishes or darning socks. I've +done a good deal of reading when I could, and I don't want to "admit +impediments" to the love of books, but I've also seen lots of good, +practical folk spoiled by too much fine print. Reading sonnets +always gives me hiccups, too. + +I never expected to be an author! But I do think there are some +amusing things about the story of Andrew and myself and how books +broke up our placid life. When John Gutenberg, whose real name (so +the Professor says) was John Gooseflesh, borrowed that money to set +up his printing press he launched a lot of troubles on the world. + +Andrew and I were wonderfully happy on the farm until he became an +author. If I could have foreseen all the bother his writings were +to cause us, I would certainly have burnt the first manuscript in +the kitchen stove. + +Andrew McGill, the author of those books every one reads, is my +brother. In other words, I am his sister, ten years younger. Years +ago Andrew was a business man, but his health failed and, like so +many people in the story books, he fled to the country, or, as he +called it, to the bosom of Nature. He and I were the only ones left +in an unsuccessful family. I was slowly perishing as a conscientious +governess in the brownstone region of New York. He rescued me from +that and we bought a farm with our combined savings. We became real +farmers, up with the sun and to bed with the same. Andrew wore +overalls and a soft shirt and grew brown and tough. My hands got +red and blue with soapsuds and frost; I never saw a Redfern +advertisement from one year's end to another, and my kitchen was a +battlefield where I set my teeth and learned to love hard work. +Our literature was government agriculture reports, patent medicine +almanacs, seedsmen's booklets, and Sears Roebuck catalogues. We +subscribed to Farm and Fireside and read the serials aloud. Every +now and then, for real excitement, we read something stirring in the +Old Testament--that cheery book Jeremiah, for instance, of which +Andrew was very fond. The farm did actually prosper, after a while; +and Andrew used to hang over the pasture bars at sunset, and tell, +from the way his pipe burned, just what the weather would be the +next day. + +As I have said, we were tremendously happy until Andrew got the +fatal idea of telling the world how happy we were. I am sorry to +have to admit he had always been rather a bookish man. In his +college days he had edited the students' magazine, and sometimes he +would get discontented with the Farm and Fireside serials and pull +down his bound volumes of the college paper. He would read me some +of his youthful poems and stories and mutter vaguely about writing +something himself some day. I was more concerned with sitting hens +than with sonnets and I'm bound to say I never took these threats +very seriously. I should have been more severe. + +Then great-uncle Philip died, and his carload of books came to us. +He had been a college professor, and years ago when Andrew was a +boy Uncle Philip had been very fond of him--had, in fact, put him +through college. We were the only near relatives, and all those +books turned up one fine day. That was the beginning of the end, +if I had only known it. Andrew had the time of his life building +shelves all round our living-room; not content with that he turned +the old hen house into a study for himself, put in a stove, and used +to sit up there evenings after I had gone to bed. The first thing I +knew he called the place Sabine Farm (although it had been known for +years as Bog Hollow) because he thought it a literary thing to do. +He used to take a book along with him when he drove over to Redfield +for supplies; sometimes the wagon would be two hours late coming +home, with old Ben loafing along between the shafts and Andrew lost +in his book. + +I didn't think much of all this, but I'm an easy-going woman and +as long as Andrew kept the farm going I had plenty to do on my own +hook. Hot bread and coffee, eggs and preserves for breakfast; soup +and hot meat, vegetables, dumplings, gravy, brown bread and white, +huckleberry pudding, chocolate cake and buttermilk for dinner; +muffins, tea, sausage rolls, blackberries and cream, and doughnuts +for supper--that's the kind of menu I had been preparing three times +a day for years. I hadn't any time to worry about what wasn't my +business. + +And then one morning I caught Andrew doing up a big, flat parcel for +the postman. He looked so sheepish I just had to ask what it was. + +"I've written a book," said Andrew, and he showed me the title page-- + + PARADISE REGAINED + BY + ANDREW McGILL + +Even then I wasn't much worried, because of course I knew no one +would print it. But Lord! a month or so later came a letter from a +publisher--accepting it! That's the letter Andrew keeps framed above +his desk. Just to show how such things sound I'll copy it here: + + DECAMERON, JONES AND COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + UNION SQUARE, NEW YORK + + January 13, 1907. + +DEAR MR. McGILL: + +We have read with singular pleasure your manuscript "Paradise +Regained." There is no doubt in our minds that so spirited an +account of the joys of sane country living should meet with +popular approval, and, with the exception of a few revisions and +abbreviations, we would be glad to publish the book practically as +it stands. We would like to have it illustrated by Mr. Tortoni, some +of whose work you may have seen, and would be glad to know whether +he may call upon you in order to acquaint himself with the local +colour of your neighbourhood. + +We would be glad to pay you a royalty of 10 percent upon the retail +price of the book, and we enclose duplicate contracts for your +signature in case this proves satisfactory to you. + +Believe us, etc., etc., + +DECAMERON, JONES & CO. + + +I have since thought that "Paradise Lost" would have been a better +title for that book. It was published in the autumn of 1907, and +since that time our life has never been the same. By some mischance +the book became the success of the season; it was widely commended +as "a gospel of health and sanity" and Andrew received, in almost +every mail, offers from publishers and magazine editors who wanted +to get hold of his next book. It is almost incredible to what +stratagems publishers will descend to influence an author. Andrew +had written in "Paradise Regained" of the tramps who visit us, how +quaint and appealing some of them are (let me add, how dirty), +and how we never turn away any one who seems worthy. Would you +believe that, in the spring after the book was published, a +disreputable-looking vagabond with a knapsack, who turned up one +day, blarneyed Andrew about his book and stayed overnight, announced +himself at breakfast as a leading New York publisher? He had chosen +this ruse in order to make Andrew's acquaintance. + +You can imagine that it didn't take long for Andrew to become +spoiled at this rate! The next year he suddenly disappeared, leaving +only a note on the kitchen table, and tramped all over the state for +six weeks collecting material for a new book. I had all I could do +to keep him from going to New York to talk to editors and people of +that sort. Envelopes of newspaper cuttings used to come to him, and +he would pore over them when he ought to have been ploughing corn. +Luckily the mail man comes along about the middle of the morning +when Andrew is out in the fields, so I used to look over the letters +before he saw them. After the second book ("Happiness and Hayseed" +it was called) was printed, letters from publishers got so thick +that I used to put them all in the stove before Andrew saw +them--except those from the Decameron Jones people, which sometimes +held checks. Literary folk used to turn up now and then to interview +Andrew, but generally I managed to head them off. + +But Andrew got to be less and less of a farmer and more and more +of a literary man. He bought a typewriter. He would hang over the +pigpen noting down adjectives for the sunset instead of mending the +weather vane on the barn which took a slew so that the north wind +came from the southwest. He hardly ever looked at the Sears Roebuck +catalogues any more, and after Mr. Decameron came to visit us and +suggested that Andrew write a book of country poems, the man became +simply unbearable. + +And all the time I was counting eggs and turning out three meals a +day, and running the farm when Andrew got a literary fit and would +go off on some vagabond jaunt to collect adventures for a new book. +(I wish you could have seen the state he was in when he came back +from these trips, hoboing it along the roads without any money or a +clean sock to his back. One time he returned with a cough you could +hear the other side of the barn, and I had to nurse him for three +weeks.) When somebody wrote a little booklet about "The Sage of +Redfield" and described me as a "rural Xantippe" and "the domestic +balance-wheel that kept the great writer close to the homely +realities of life" I made up my mind to give Andrew some of his own +medicine. And that's my story. + + + +CHAPTER TWO + + +It was a fine, crisp morning in fall--October I dare say--and I was +in the kitchen coring apples for apple sauce. We were going to have +roast pork for dinner with boiled potatoes and what Andrew calls +Vandyke brown gravy. Andrew had driven over to town to get some +flour and feed and wouldn't be back till noontime. + +Being a Monday, Mrs. McNally, the washerwoman, had come over to take +care of the washing. I remember I was just on my way out to the wood +pile for a few sticks of birch when I heard wheels turn in at the +gate. There was one of the fattest white horses I ever saw, and a +queer wagon, shaped like a van. A funny-looking little man with a +red beard leaned forward from the seat and said something. I didn't +hear what it was, I was looking at that preposterous wagon of his. + +It was coloured a pale, robin's-egg blue, and on the side, in big +scarlet letters, was painted: + + R. MIFFLIN'S + TRAVELLING PARNASSUS + GOOD BOOKS FOR SALE + SHAKESPEARE, CHARLES LAMB, R.L.S. + HAZLITT, AND ALL OTHERS + +Underneath the wagon, in slings, hung what looked like a tent, +together with a lantern, a bucket, and other small things. The van +had a raised skylight on the roof, something like an old-fashioned +trolley car; and from one corner went up a stove pipe. At the back +was a door with little windows on each side and a flight of steps +leading up to it. + +As I stood looking at this queer turnout, the little reddish man +climbed down from in front and stood watching me. His face was a +comic mixture of pleasant drollery and a sort of weather-beaten +cynicism. He had a neat little russet beard and a shabby Norfolk +jacket. His head was very bald. + +"Is this where Andrew McGill lives?" he said. + +I admitted it. + +"But he's away until noon," I added. "He'll be back then. There's +roast pork for dinner." + +"And apple sauce?" said the little man. + +"Apple sauce and brown gravy," I said. "That's why I'm sure he'll be +home on time. Sometimes he's late when there's boiled dinner, but +never on roast pork days. Andrew would never do for a rabbi." + +A sudden suspicion struck me. + +"You're not another publisher, are you?" I cried. "What do you want +with Andrew?" + +"I was wondering whether he wouldn't buy this outfit," said the +little man, including, with a wave of the hand, both van and white +horse. As he spoke he released a hook somewhere, and raised the +whole side of his wagon like a flap. Some kind of catch clicked, the +flap remained up like a roof, displaying nothing but books--rows and +rows of them. The flank of his van was nothing but a big bookcase. +Shelves stood above shelves, all of them full of books--both old and +new. As I stood gazing, he pulled out a printed card from somewhere +and gave it to me: + + ROGER MIFFLIN'S + TRAVELLING PARNASSUS + + Worthy friends, my wain doth hold + Many a book, both new and old; + Books, the truest friends of man, + Fill this rolling caravan. + Books to satisfy all uses, + Golden lyrics of the Muses, + Books on cookery and farming, + Novels passionate and charming, + Every kind for every need + So that he who buys may read. + What librarian can surpass us? + + MIFFLIN'S TRAVELLING PARNASSUS + + By R. Mifflin, Prop'r. + + Star Job Print, Celeryville, Va. + +While I was chuckling over this, he had raised a similar flap on the +other side of the Parnassus which revealed still more shelves loaded +with books. + +I'm afraid I am severely practical by nature. + +"Well!" I said, "I should think you _would_ need a pretty stout +steed to lug that load along. It must weigh more than a coal wagon." + +"Oh, Peg can manage it all right," he said. "We don't travel very +fast. But look here, I want to sell out. Do you suppose your husband +would buy the outfit--Parnassus, Pegasus, and all? He's fond of +books, isn't he? + +"Hold on a minute!" I said. "Andrew's my brother, not my husband, +and he's altogether _too_ fond of books. Books'll be the ruin of +this farm pretty soon. He's mooning about over his books like a +sitting hen about half the time, when he ought to be mending +harness. Lord, if he saw this wagonload of yours he'd be unsettled +for a week. I have to stop the postman down the road and take all +the publishers' catalogues out of the mail so that Andrew don't +see 'em. I'm mighty glad he's not here just now, I can tell you!" + +I'm not literary, as I said before, but I'm human enough to like +a good book, and my eye was running along those shelves of his +as I spoke. He certainly had a pretty miscellaneous collection. +I noticed poetry, essays, novels, cook books, juveniles, school +books, Bibles, and what not--all jumbled together. + +"Well, see here," said the little man--and about this time I noticed +that he had the bright eyes of a fanatic--"I've been cruising with +this Parnassus going on seven years. I've covered the territory from +Florida to Maine and I reckon I've injected about as much good +literature into the countryside as ever old Doc Eliot did with his +five-foot shelf. I want to sell out now. I'm going to write a book +about 'Literature Among the Farmers,' and want to settle down with +my brother in Brooklyn and write it. I've got a sackful of notes for +it. I guess I'll just stick around until Mr. McGill gets home and +see if he won't buy me out. I'll sell the whole concern, horse, +wagon, and books, for $400. I've read Andrew McGill's stuff and I +reckon the proposition'll interest him. I've had more fun with this +Parnassus than a barrel of monkeys. I used to be a school teacher +till my health broke down. Then I took this up and I've made more +than expenses and had the time of my life." + +"Well, Mr. Mifflin," I said, "if you want to stay around I guess I +can't stop you. But I'm sorry you and your old Parnassus ever came +this way." + +I turned on my heel and went back to the kitchen. I knew pretty well +that Andrew would go up in the air when he saw that wagonload of +books and one of those crazy cards with Mr. Mifflin's poetry on it. + +I must confess that I was considerably upset. Andrew is just as +unpractical and fanciful as a young girl, and always dreaming of +new adventures and rambles around the country. If he ever saw that +travelling Parnassus he'd fall for it like snap. And I knew Mr. +Decameron was after him for a new book anyway. (I'd intercepted one +of his letters suggesting another "Happiness and Hayseed" trip just +a few weeks before. Andrew was away when the letter came. I had a +suspicion what was in it; so I opened it, read it, and--well, burnt +it. Heavens! as though Andrew didn't have enough to do without +mooning down the road like a tinker, just to write a book about it.) + +As I worked around the kitchen I could see Mr. Mifflin making +himself at home. He unhitched his horse, tied her up to the fence, +sat down by the wood pile, and lit a pipe. I could see I was in for +it. By and by I couldn't stand it any longer. I went out to talk to +that bald-headed pedlar. + +"See here," I said. "You're a pretty cool fish to make yourself so +easy in my yard. I tell you I don't want you around here, you and +your travelling parcheesi. Suppose you clear out of here before my +brother gets back and don't be breaking up our happy family." + +"Miss McGill," he said (the man had a pleasant way with him, +too--darn him--with his bright, twinkling eye and his silly little +beard), "I'm sure I don't want to be discourteous. If you move me on +from here, of course I'll go; but I warn you I shall lie in wait for +Mr. McGill just down this road. I'm here to sell this caravan of +culture, and by the bones of Swinburne I think your brother's the +man to buy it." + +My blood was up now, and I'll admit that I said my next without +proper calculation. + +"Rather than have Andrew buy your old parcheesi," I said, "I'll buy +it myself. I'll give you $300 for it." + +The little man's face brightened. He didn't either accept or decline +my offer. (I was frightened to death that he'd take me right on the +nail and bang would go my three years' savings for a Ford.) + +"Come and have another look at her," he said. + +I must admit that Mr. Roger Mifflin had fixed up his van mighty +comfortably inside. The body of the wagon was built out on each side +over the wheels, which gave it an unwieldy appearance but made extra +room for the bookshelves. This left an inside space about five feet +wide and nine long. On one side he had a little oil stove, a flap +table, and a cozy-looking bunk above which was built a kind of chest +of drawers--to hold clothes and such things, I suppose; on the other +side more bookshelves, a small table, and a little wicker easy +chair. Every possible inch of space seemed to be made useful in some +way, for a shelf or a hook or a hanging cupboard or something. Above +the stove was a neat little row of pots and dishes and cooking +usefuls. The raised skylight made it just possible to stand upright +in the centre aisle of the van; and a little sliding window opened +onto the driver's seat in front. Altogether it was a very neat +affair. The windows in front and back were curtained and a pot of +geraniums stood on a diminutive shelf. I was amused to see a sandy +Irish terrier curled up on a bright Mexican blanket in the bunk. + +"Miss McGill," he said, "I couldn't sell Parnassus for less than +four hundred. I've put twice that much into her, one time and +another. She's built clean and solid all through, and there's +everything a man would need from blankets to bouillon cubes. The +whole thing's yours for $400--including dog, cook stove, and +everything--jib, boom, and spanker. There's a tent in a sling +underneath, and an ice box (he pulled up a little trap door under +the bunk) and a tank of coal oil and Lord knows what all. She's as +good as a yacht; but I'm tired of her. If you're so afraid of your +brother taking a fancy to her, why don't you buy her yourself and +go off on a lark? Make _him_ stay home and mind the farm!... Tell +you what I'll do. I'll start you on the road myself, come with you +the first day and show you how it's worked. You could have the time +of your life in this thing, and give yourself a fine vacation. It +would give your brother a good surprise, too. Why not?" + +I don't know whether it was the neatness of his absurd little van, +or the madness of the whole proposition, or just the desire to have +an adventure of my own and play a trick on Andrew, but anyway, some +extraordinary impulse seized me and I roared with laughter. + +"Right!" I said. "I'll do it." + +I, Helen McGill, in the thirty-ninth year of my age! + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +"Well," I thought, "if I'm in for an adventure I may as well be spry +about it. Andrew'll be home by half-past twelve and if I'm going to +give him the slip I'd better get a start. I suppose he'll think I'm +crazy! He'll follow me, I guess. Well, he just shan't catch me, +that's all!" A kind of anger came over me to think that I'd been +living on that farm for nearly fifteen years--yes, sir, ever since +I was twenty-five--and hardly ever been away except for that trip +to Boston once a year to go shopping with cousin Edie. I'm a +home-keeping soul, I guess, and I love my kitchen and my preserve +cupboard and my linen closet as well as grandmother ever did, but +something in that blue October air and that crazy little red-bearded +man just tickled me. + +"Look here, Mr. Parnassus," I said, "I guess I'm a fat old fool but +I just believe I'll do that. You hitch up your horse and van and +I'll go pack some clothes and write you a check. It'll do Andrew all +the good in the world to have me skip. I'll get a chance to read a +few books, too. It'll be as good as going to college!" And I untied +my apron and ran for the house. The little man stood leaning against +a corner of the van as if he were stupefied. I dare say he was. + +I ran into the house through the front door, and it struck me as +comical to see a copy of one of Andrew's magazines lying on the +living-room table with "The Revolt of Womanhood" printed across +it in red letters. "Here goes for the revolt of Helen McGill," I +thought. I sat down at Andrew's desk, pushed aside a pad of notes +he had been jotting down about "the magic of autumn," and scrawled +a few lines: + +DEAR ANDREW, + +Don't be thinking I'm crazy. I've gone off for an adventure. It just +came over me that you've had all the adventures while I've been at +home baking bread. Mrs. McNally will look after your meals and one +of her girls can come over to do the housework. So don't worry. I'm +going off for a little while--a month, maybe--to see some of this +happiness and hayseed of yours. It's what the magazines call the +revolt of womanhood. Warm underwear in the cedar chest in the spare +room when you need it. With love, HELEN. + +I left the note on his desk. + +Mrs. McNally was bending over the tubs in the laundry. I could see +only the broad arch of her back and hear the vigorous zzzzzzz of her +rubbing. She straightened up at my call. + +"Mrs. McNally," I said, "I'm going away for a little trip. You'd +better let the washing go until this afternoon and get Andrew's +dinner for him. He'll be back about twelve-thirty. It's half-past +ten now. You tell him I've gone over to see Mrs. Collins at Locust +Farm." + +Mrs. McNally is a brawny, slow-witted Swede. "All right Mis' +McGill," she said. "You be back to denner?" + +"No, I'm not coming back for a month," I said. "I'm going away for +a trip. I want you to send Rosie over here every day to do the +housework while I'm away. You can arrange with Mr. McGill about +that. I've got to hurry now." + +Mrs. McNally's honest eyes, as blue as Copenhagen china, gazing +through the window in perplexity, fell upon the travelling Parnassus +and Mr. Mifflin backing Pegasus into the shafts. I saw her make a +valiant effort to comprehend the sign painted on the side of the +van--and give it up. + +"You going driving?" she said blankly. + +"Yes," I said, and fled upstairs. + +I always keep my bank book in an old Huyler box in the top drawer +of my bureau. I don't save very quickly, I'm afraid. I have a +little income from some money father left me, but Andrew takes care +of that. Andrew pays all the farm expenses, but the housekeeping +accounts fall to me. I make a fairish amount of pin money on my +poultry and some of my preserves that I send to Boston, and on some +recipes of mine that I send to a woman's magazine now and then; but +generally my savings don't amount to much over $10 a month. In the +last five years I had put by something more than $600. I had been +saving up for a Ford. But just now it looked to me as if that +Parnassus would be more fun than a Ford ever could be. Four hundred +dollars was a lot of money, but I thought of what it would mean +to have Andrew come home and buy it. Why, he'd be away until +Thanksgiving! Whereas if I bought it I could take it away, have my +adventure, and sell it somewhere so that Andrew never need see it. +I hardened my heart and determined to give the Sage of Redfield +some of his own medicine. + +My balance at the Redfield National Bank was $615.20. I sat down at +the table in my bedroom where I keep my accounts and wrote out a +check to Roger Mifflin for $400. I put in plenty of curlicues after +the figures so that no one could raise the check into $400,000; then +I got out my old rattan suit case and put in some clothes. The whole +business didn't take me ten minutes. I came downstairs to find Mrs. +McNally looking sourly at the Parnassus from the kitchen door. + +"You going away in that--that 'bus, Mis' McGill?" she asked. + +"Yes, Mrs. McNally," I said cheerfully. Her use of the word gave me +an inspiration. "That's one of the new jitney 'buses we hear about. +He's going to take me to the station. Don't you worry about me. I'm +going for a holiday. You get Mr. McGill's dinner ready for him. +After dinner tell him there's a note for him in the living-room." + +"I tank that bane a queer 'bus," said Mrs. McNally, puzzled. I think +the excellent woman suspected an elopement. + +I carried my suit case out to the Parnassus. Pegasus stood placidly +between the shafts. From within came sounds of vigorous movement. In +a moment the little man burst out with a bulging portmanteau in his +hand. He had a tweed cap slanted on the back of his head. + +"There!" he cried triumphantly. "I've packed all my personal +effects--clothes and so on--and everything else goes with the +transaction. When I get on the train with this bag I'm a free man, +and hurrah for Brooklyn! Lord, won't I be glad to get back to the +city! I lived in Brooklyn once, and I haven't been back there for +ten years," he added plaintively. + +"Here's the check," I said, handing it to him. He flushed a little, +and looked at me rather shamefacedly. "See here," he said, "I hope +you're not making a bad bargain? I don't want to take advantage of a +lady. If you think your brother...." + +"I was going to buy a Ford, anyway," I said, "and it looks to me +as though this parcheesi of yours would be cheaper to run than any +flivver that ever came out of Detroit. I want to keep it away from +Andrew and that's the main thing. You give me a receipt and we'll +get away from here before he comes back." + +He took the check without a word, hoisted his fat portmanteau on the +driver's seat, and then disappeared in the van. In a minute he +reappeared. On the back of one of his poetical cards he had written: + +Received from Miss McGill the sum of four hundred dollars in +exchange for one Travelling Parnassus in first class condition, +delivered to her this day, October 3rd, 19--. + +Signed +ROGER MIFFLIN. + +"Tell me," I said, "does your Parnassus--_my_ Parnassus, +rather--contain everything I'm likely to need? Is it stocked up +with food and so on?" + +"I was coming to that," he said. "You'll find a fair supply of stuff +in the cupboard over the stove, though I used to get most of my +meals at farmhouses along the road. I generally read aloud to people +as I go along, and they're often good for a free meal. It's amazing +how little most of the country folk know about books, and how +pleased they are to hear good stuff. Down in Lancaster County, +Pennsylvania...." + +"Well, how about the horse?" I said hastily, seeing him about to +embark on an anecdote. It wasn't far short of eleven o'clock, and I +was anxious to get started. + +"It might be well to take along some oats. My supply's about +exhausted." + +I filled a sack with oats in the stable and Mr. Mifflin showed me +where to hang it under the van. Then in the kitchen I loaded a big +basket with provisions for an emergency: a dozen eggs, a jar of +sliced bacon, butter, cheese, condensed milk, tea, biscuits, jam, +and two loaves of bread. These Mr. Mifflin stowed inside the van, +Mrs. McNally watching in amazement. + +"I tank this bane a queer picnic!" she said. "Which way are you +going? Mr. McGill, is he coming after you?" + +"No," I insisted, "he's not coming. I'm going off on a holiday. You +get dinner for him and he won't worry about anything until after +that. Tell him I've gone over to see Mrs. Collins." + +I climbed the little steps and entered my Parnassus with a pleasant +thrill of ownership. The terrier on the bunk jumped to the floor +with a friendly wag of the tail. I piled the bunk with bedding and +blankets of my own, shook out the drawers which fitted above the +bunk, and put into them what few belongings I was taking with me. +And we were ready to start. + +Redbeard was already sitting in front with the reins in hand. I +climbed up beside him. The front seat was broad but uncushioned, +well sheltered by the peak of the van. I gave a quick glance around +at the comfortable house under its elms and maples--saw the big, red +barn shining in the sun and the pump under the grape arbour. I waved +good-bye to Mrs. McNally who was watching us in silent amazement. +Pegasus threw her solid weight against the traces and Parnassus +swung round and rolled past the gate. We turned into the Redfield +road. + +"Here," said Mifflin, handing me the reins, "you're skipper, you'd +better drive. Which way do you want to go?" + +My breath came a little fast when I realized that my adventure had +begun! + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +Just out of sight of the farm the road forks, one way running on +to Walton where you cross the river by a covered bridge, the other +swinging down toward Greenbriar and Port Vigor. Mrs. Collins lives a +mile or so up the Walton road, and as I very often run over to see +her I thought Andrew would be most likely to look for me there. So, +after we had passed through the grove, I took the right-hand turn to +Greenbriar. We began the long ascent over Huckleberry Hill and as I +smelt the fresh autumn odour of the leaves I chuckled a little. + +Mr. Mifflin seemed in a perfect ecstasy of high spirits. "This is +certainly grand," he said. "Lord, I applaud your spunk. Do you think +Mr. McGill will give chase?" + +"I haven't an idea," I said. "Not right away, anyhow. He's so used +to my settled ways that I don't think he'll suspect anything till he +finds my note. I wonder what kind of story Mrs. McNally will tell!" + +"How about putting him off the scent?" he said. "Give me your +handkerchief." + +I did so. He hopped nimbly out, ran back down the hill (he was a +spry little person in spite of his bald crown), and dropped the +handkerchief on the Walton Road about a hundred feet beyond the +fork. Then he followed me up the slope. + +"There," he said, grinning like a kid, "that'll fool him. The Sage +of Redfield will undoubtedly follow a false spoor and the criminals +will win a good start. But I'm afraid it's rather easy to follow a +craft as unusual as Parnassus." + +"Tell me how you manage the thing," I said. "Do you really make it +pay?" We halted at the top of the hill to give Pegasus a breathing +space. The terrier lay down in the dust and watched us gravely. Mr. +Mifflin pulled out a pipe and begged my permission to smoke. + +"It's rather comical how I first got into it," he said. "I was a +school teacher down in Maryland. I'd been plugging away in a country +school for years, on a starvation salary. I was trying to support an +invalid mother, and put by something in case of storms. I remember +how I used to wonder whether I'd ever be able to wear a suit that +wasn't shabby and have my shoes polished every day. Then my health +went back on me. The doctor told me to get into the open air. By and +by I got this idea of a travelling bookstore. I had always been a +lover of books, and in the days when I boarded out among the farmers +I used to read aloud to them. After my mother died I built the wagon +to suit my own ideas, bought a stock of books from a big second-hand +store in Baltimore, and set out. Parnassus just about saved my life +I guess." + +He pushed his faded old cap back on his head and relit his pipe. +I clicked to Pegasus and we rumbled gently off over the upland, +looking down across the pastures. Distant cow bells sounded +tankle-tonk among the bushes. Across the slope of the hill I could +see the road winding away to Redfield. Somewhere along that road +Andrew would be rolling back toward home and roast pork with apple +sauce; and here was I, setting out on the first madness of my life +without even a qualm. + +"Miss McGill," said the little man, "this rolling pavilion has been +wife, doctor, and religion to me for seven years. A month ago I +would have scoffed at the thought of leaving her; but somehow it's +come over me I need a change. There's a book I've been yearning to +write for a long time, and I need a desk steady under my elbows and +a roof over my head. And silly as it seems, I'm crazy to get back +to Brooklyn. My brother and I used to live there as kids. Think +of walking over the old Bridge at sunset and seeing the towers of +Manhattan against a red sky! And those old gray cruisers down in the +Navy Yard! You don't know how tickled I am to sell out. I've sold a +lot of copies of your brother's books and I've often thought he'd be +the man to buy Parnassus if I got tired of her." + +"So he would," I said. "Just the man. He'd be only too likely +to--and go maundering about in this jaunting car and neglect the +farm. But tell me about selling books. How much profit do you make +out of it? We'll be passing Mrs. Mason's farm, by and by, and we +might as well sell her something just to make a start." + +"It's very simple," he said. "I replenish my stock whenever I go +through a big town. There's always a second-hand bookstore somewhere +about, where you can pick up odds and ends. And every now and then I +write to a wholesaler in New York for some stuff. When I buy a book +I mark in the back just what I paid for it, then I know what I can +afford to sell it for. See here." + +He pulled up a book from behind the seat--a copy of "Lorna Doone" it +was--and showed me the letters _a m_ scrawled in pencil in the back. + +"That means that I paid ten cents for this. Now, if you sell it for +a quarter you've got a safe profit. It costs me about four dollars a +week to run Parnassus--generally less. If you clear that much in six +days you can afford to lay off on Sundays!" + +"How do you know that _a m_ stands for ten cents?" I asked. + +"The code word's _manuscript_. Each letter stands for a figure, +from 0 up to 9, see?" He scrawled it down on a scrap of paper: + + m a n u s c r i p t + 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + +"Now, you see _a m_ stands for 10, _a n_ would be 12, _n s_ is 24, +_a c_ is 15, _a m m_ is $1.00, and so on. I don't pay much over +fifty cents for books as a rule, because country folks are shy of +paying much for them. They'll pay a lot for a separator or a buggy +top, but they've never been taught to worry about literature! But +it's surprising how excited they get about books if you sell 'em the +right kind. Over beyond Port Vigor there's a farmer who's waiting +for me to go back--I've been there three or four times--and he'll +buy about five dollars' worth if I know him. First time I went there +I sold him 'Treasure Island,' and he's talking about it yet. I sold +him 'Robinson Crusoe,' and 'Little Women' for his daughter, and +'Huck Finn,' and Grubb's book about 'The Potato.' Last time I was +there he wanted some Shakespeare, but I wouldn't give it to him. +I didn't think he was up to it yet." + +I began to see something of the little man's idealism in his work. +He was a kind of traveling missionary in his way. A hefty talker, +too. His eyes were twinkling now and I could see him warming up. + +"Lord!" he said, "when you sell a man a book you don't sell him +just twelve ounces of paper and ink and glue--you sell him a whole +new life. Love and friendship and humour and ships at sea by +night--there's all heaven and earth in a book, a real book I mean. +Jiminy! If I were the baker or the butcher or the broom huckster, +people would run to the gate when I came by--just waiting for my +stuff. And here I go loaded with everlasting salvation--yes, ma'am, +salvation for their little, stunted minds--and it's hard to make 'em +see it. That's what makes it worth while--I'm doing something that +nobody else from Nazareth, Maine, to Walla Walla, Washington, has +ever thought of. It's a new field, but by the bones of Whitman it's +worth while. That's what this country needs--more books!" + +He laughed at his own vehemence. "Do you know, it's comical," he +said. "Even the publishers, the fellows that print the books, +can't see what I'm doing for them. Some of 'em refuse me credit +because I sell their books for what they're worth instead of +for the prices they mark on them. They write me letters about +price-maintenance--and I write back about merit-maintenance. +Publish a good book and I'll get a good price for it, say I! +Sometimes I think the publishers know less about books than any +one else! I guess that's natural, though. Most school teachers +don't know much about children." + +"The best of it is," he went on, "I have such a darn good time. +Peg and Bock (that's the dog) and I go loafing along the road on +a warm summer day, and by and by we'll fetch up alongside some +boarding-house and there are the boarders all rocking off their +lunch on the veranda. Most of 'em bored to death--nothing good to +read, nothing to do but sit and watch the flies buzzing in the sun +and the chickens rubbing up and down in the dust. First thing you +know I'll sell half a dozen books that put the love of life into +them, and they don't forget Parnassus in a hurry. Take O. Henry, for +instance--there isn't anybody so dog-gone sleepy that he won't enjoy +that man's stories. He understood life, you bet, and he could write +it down with all its little twists. I've spent an evening reading O. +Henry and Wilkie Collins to people and had them buy out all their +books I had and clamour for more." + +"What do you do in winter?" I asked--a practical question, as most +of mine are. + +"That depends on where I am when bad weather sets in," said Mr. +Mifflin. "Two winters I was down south and managed to keep Parnassus +going all through the season. Otherwise, I just lay up wherever I +am. I've never found it hard to get lodging for Peg and a job for +myself, if I had to have them. Last winter I worked in a bookstore +in Boston. Winter before, I was in a country drugstore down in +Pennsylvania. Winter before that, I tutored a couple of small boys +in English literature. Winter before that, I was a steward on a +steamer; you see how it goes. I've had a fairly miscellaneous +experience. As far as I can see, a man who's fond of books never +need starve! But this winter I'm planning to live with my brother in +Brooklyn and slog away at my book. Lord, how I've pondered over that +thing! Long summer afternoons I've sat here, jogging along in the +dust, thinking it out until it seemed as if my forehead would burst. +You see, my idea is that the common people--in the country, that +is--never have had any chance to get hold of books, and never have +had any one to explain what books can mean. It's all right for +college presidents to draw up their five-foot shelves of great +literature, and for the publishers to advertise sets of their +Linoleum Classics, but what the people need is the good, homely, +honest stuff--something that'll stick to their ribs--make them laugh +and tremble and feel sick to think of the littleness of this popcorn +ball spinning in space without ever even getting a hot-box! And +something that'll spur 'em on to keep the hearth well swept and the +wood pile split into kindling and the dishes washed and dried and +put away. Any one who can get the country people to read something +worth while is doing his nation a real service. And that's what +this caravan of culture aspires to.... You must be weary of this +harangue! Does the Sage of Redfield ever run on like that?" + +"Not to me," I said. "He's known me so long that he thinks of me as +a kind of animated bread-baking and cake-mixing machine. I guess he +doesn't put much stock in my judgment in literary matters. But he +puts his digestion in my hands without reserve. There's Mason's +farm over there. I guess we'd better sell them some books--hadn't +we? Just for a starter." + +We turned into the lane that runs up to the Mason farmhouse. Bock +trotted on ahead--very stiff on his legs and his tail gently +wagging--to interview the mastiff, and Mrs. Mason who was sitting +on the porch, peeling potatoes, laid down the pan. She's a big, +buxom woman with jolly, brown eyes like a cow's. + +"For heaven's sake, Miss McGill," she called out in a cheerful +voice--"I'm glad to see you. Got a lift, did you?" + +She hadn't really noticed the inscription on Parnassus, and thought +it was a regular huckster's wagon. + +"Well, Mrs. Mason," I said, "I've gone into the book business. This +is Mr. Mifflin. I've bought out his stock. We've come to sell you +some books." + +She laughed. "Go on, Helen," she said, "you can't kid me! I bought +a whole set of books last year from an agent--'The World's Great +Funeral Orations'--twenty volumes. Sam and I ain't read more'n the +first volume yet. It's awful uneasy reading!" + +Mifflin jumped down, and raised the side flap of the wagon. Mrs. +Mason came closer. I was tickled to see how the little man perked +up at the sight of a customer. Evidently selling books was meat +and drink to him. + +"Madam," he said, "'Funeral Orations' (bound in sackcloth, I +suppose?) have their place, but Miss McGill and I have got some real +books here to which I invite your attention. Winter will be here +soon, and you will need something more cheerful to beguile your +evenings. Very possibly you have growing children who would profit +by a good book or two. A book of fairy tales for the little girl I +see on the porch? Or stories of inventors for that boy who is about +to break his neck jumping from the barn loft? Or a book about road +making for your husband? Surely there is something here you need? +Miss McGill probably knows your tastes." + +That little red-bearded man was surely a born salesman. How he +guessed that Mr. Mason was the road commissioner in our township, +goodness only knows. Perhaps it was just a lucky shot. By this +time most of the family had gathered around the van, and I saw Mr. +Mason coming from the barn with his twelve-year-old Billy. + +"Sam," shouted Mrs. Mason, "here's Miss McGill turned book pedlar +and got a preacher with her!" + +"Hello, Miss McGill," said Mr. Mason. He is a big, slow-moving man +of great gravity and solidity. "Where's Andrew?" + +"Andrew's coming home for roast pork and apple sauce," I said, "and +I'm going off to sell books for a living. Mr. Mifflin here is +teaching me how. We've got a book on road mending that's just what +you need." + +I saw Mr. and Mrs. Mason exchange glances. Evidently they thought me +crazy. I began to wonder whether we had made a mistake in calling on +people I knew so well. The situation was a trifle embarrassing. + +Mr. Mifflin came to the rescue. + +"Don't be alarmed, sir," he said to Mr. Mason. "I haven't kidnapped +Miss McGill." (As he is about half my size this was amusing.) "We +are trying to increase her brother's income by selling his books for +him. As a matter of fact, we have a wager with him that we can sell +fifty copies of 'Happiness and Hayseed' before Hallowe'en. Now I'm +sure your sporting instinct will assist us by taking at least one +copy. Andrew McGill is probably the greatest author in this State, +and every taxpayer ought to possess his books. May I show you a +copy?" + +"That sounds reasonable," said Mr. Mason, and he almost smiled. +"What do you say, Emma, think we better buy a book or two? You know +those 'Funeral Orations.'..." "Well," said Emma, "you know we've +always said we ought to read one of Andrew McGill's books but we +didn't rightly know how to get hold of one. That fellow that sold us +the funeral speeches didn't seem to know about 'em. I tell you what, +you folks better stop and have dinner with us and you can tell us +what we'd ought to buy. I'm just ready to put the potatoes on the +stove now." + +I must confess that the prospect of sitting down to a meal I hadn't +cooked myself appealed to me strongly; and I was keen to see what +kind of grub Mrs. Mason provided for her household; but I was +afraid that if we dallied there too long Andrew would be after us. I +was about to say that we would have to be getting on, and couldn't +stay; but apparently the zest of expounding his philosophy to new +listeners was too much for Mifflin. I heard him saying: + +"That's mighty kind of you, Mrs. Mason, and we'd like very much to +stay. Perhaps I can put Peg up in your barn for a while. Then we can +tell you all about our books." And to my amazement I found myself +chiming in with assent. + +Mifflin certainly surpassed himself at dinner. The fact that +Mrs. Mason's hot biscuits tasted of saleratus gave me far less +satisfaction than it otherwise would, because I was absorbed in +listening to the little vagabond's talk. Mr. Mason came to the table +grumbling something about his telephone being out of order--(I +wondered whether he had been trying to get Andrew on the wire; he +was a little afraid that I was being run away with, I think)--but +he was soon won over by the current of the little man's cheery wit. +Nothing daunted Mifflin. He talked to the old grandmother about +quilts; offered to cut off a strip of his necktie for her new +patchwork; and told all about the illustrated book on quilts that he +had in the van. He discussed cookery and the Bible with Mrs. Mason; +and she being a leading light in the Greenbriar Sunday School, was +pleasantly scandalized by his account of the best detective stories +in the Old Testament. With Mr. Mason he was all scientific farming, +chemical manures, macadam roads, and crop rotation; and to little +Billy (who sat next him) he told extraordinary yarns about Daniel +Boone, Davy Crockett, Kit Carson, Buffalo Bill, and what not. +Honestly I was amazed at the little man. He was as genial as a +cricket on the hearth, and yet every now and then his earnestness +would break through. I don't wonder he was a success at selling +books. That man could sell clothes pins or Paris garters, I guess, +and make them seem romantic. + +"You know, Mr. Mason," he said, "you certainly owe it to these +youngsters of yours to put a few really good books into their hands. +City kids have the libraries to go to, but in the country there's +only old Doc Hostetter's Almanac and the letters written by ladies +with backache telling how Peruna did for them. Give this boy and +girl of yours a few good books and you're starting them on the +double-track, block-signal line to happiness. Now there's 'Little +Women'--that girl of yours can learn more about real girlhood and +fine womanhood out of that book than from a year's paper dolls in +the attic." + +"That's right, Pa," assented Mrs. Mason. ("Go on with your meal, +Professor, the meat'll be cold.") She was completely won by the +travelling bookseller, and had given him the highest title of honour +in her ken. "Why, I read that story when I was a girl, and I still +remember it. That's better readin' for Dorothy than those funeral +speeches, I reckon. I believe the Professor's right: we'd ought to +have more books laying around. Seems kind of a shame, with a famous +author at the next farm, not to read more, don't it, now?" + +So by the time we got down to Mrs. Mason's squash pie (good pie, +too, I admit, but her hand is a little heavy for pastry), the whole +household was enthusiastic about books, and the atmosphere was +literary enough for even Dr. Eliot to live in without panting. Mrs. +Mason opened up her parlour and we sat there while Mifflin recited +"The Revenge" and "Maud Muller." + +"Well, now, ain't that real sweet!" said Emma Mason. "It's +surprising how those words rhyme so nicely. Seems almost as though +it was done a-purpose! Reminds me of piece day at school. There +was a mighty pretty piece I learned called the 'Wreck of the +Asperus.'" And she subsided into a genteel melancholy. + +I saw that Mr. Mifflin was well astride his hobby: he had started to +tell the children about Robin Hood, but I had the sense to give him +a wink. We had to be getting along or surely Andrew might be on us. +So while Mifflin was putting Pegasus into the shafts again I picked +out seven or eight books that I thought would fit the needs of the +Masons. Mr. Mason insisted that "Happiness and Hayseed" be included +among them, and gave me a crisp five-dollar bill, refusing any +change. "No, no," he said, "I've had more fun than I get at a grange +meeting. Come round again, Miss McGill; I'm going to tell Andrew +what a good show this travelling theayter of yours gives! And you, +Professor, any time you're here about road-mending season, stop in +an' tell me some more good advice. Well, I must get back to the +field." + +Bock fell in under the van, and we creaked off down the lane. +Mifflin filled his pipe and was chuckling to himself. I was a little +worried now for fear Andrew might overtake us. + +"It's a wonder Sam Mason didn't call up Andrew," I said. "It must +have looked mighty queer to him for an old farm hand like me to be +around, peddling books." + +"He would have done it straight off," said Mifflin, "but you see, I +cut his telephone wire!" + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +I gazed in astonishment at the wizened little rogue. Here was a +new side to the amiable idealist! Apparently there was a streak of +fearless deviltry in him besides his gentle love of books. I'm bound +to say that now, for the first time, I really admired him. I had +burnt my own very respectable boats behind me, and I rather enjoyed +knowing that he, too, could act briskly in a pinch. + +"Well!" I said. "You are a cool hand! It's a good job for you that +you didn't stay a schoolmaster. You might have taught your pupils +some fine deviltries! And at your age, too!" + +I'm afraid my raillery goes a little too far sometimes. He flushed +a bit at my reference to his age, and puffed sharply at his pipe. + +"I say," he rejoined, "how old do you think I am, anyway? Only +forty-one, by the bones of Byron! Henry VIII was only forty-one +when he married Anne Boleyn. There are many consolations in history +for people over forty! Remember that when you get there. + +"Shakespeare wrote 'King Lear' at forty-one," he added, more +humorously; and then burst out laughing. "I'd like to edit a series +of 'Chloroform Classics,' to include only books written after forty. +Who was that doctor man who recommended anaesthetics for us at that +age? Now isn't that just like a medico? Nurse us through the +diseases of childhood, and as soon as we settle down into permanent +good health and worldly wisdom, and freedom from doctors' fees, why +he loses interest in us! Jove! I must note that down and bring it +into my book." + +He pulled out a memorandum book and jotted down "Chloroform +Classics" in a small, neat hand. + +"Well," I said (I felt a little contrite, as I was sincerely +sorry to have offended him), "I've passed forty myself in some +measurements, so youth no longer has any terrors for me." + +He looked at me rather comically. + +"My dear madam," he said, "your age is precisely eighteen. I think +that if we escape the clutches of the Sage of Redfield you may +really begin to live." + +"Oh, Andrew's not a bad sort," I said. "He's absentminded, and hot +tempered, and a little selfish. The publishers have done their best +to spoil him, but for a literary man I guess he's quite human. He +rescued me from being a governess, and that's to his credit. If only +he didn't take his meals quite so much as a matter of course...." + +"The preposterous thing about him is that he really can _write_," +said Mifflin. "I envy him that. Don't let him know I said so, but +as a matter of fact his prose is almost as good as Thoreau. He +approaches facts as daintily as a cat crossing a wet road." + +"You should see him at dinner," I thought; or rather I meant to +think it, but the words slipped out. I found myself thinking aloud +in a rather disconcerting way while sitting with this strange +little person. + +He looked at me. I noticed for the first time that his eyes were +slate blue, with funny birds' foot wrinkles at the corners. + +"That's so," he said. "I never thought of that. A fine prose style +certainly presupposes sound nourishment. Excellent point that... +And yet Thoreau did his own cooking. A sort of Boy Scout I guess, +with a badge as kitchen master. Perhaps he took Beechnut bacon with +him into the woods. I wonder who cooked for Stevenson--Cummy? The +'Child's Garden of Verses' was really a kind of kitchen garden, +wasn't it? I'm afraid the commissariat problem has weighed rather +heavily on you. I'm glad you've got away from it." + +All this was getting rather intricate for me. I set it down as I +remember it, inaccurately perhaps. My governess days are pretty +far astern now, and my line is common sense rather than literary +allusions. I said something of the sort. + +"Common sense?" he repeated. "Good Lord, ma'am, sense is the most +uncommon thing in the world. I haven't got it. I don't believe your +brother has, from what you say. Bock here has it. See how he trots +along the road, keeps an eye on the scenery, and minds his own +business. I never saw him get into a fight yet. Wish I could say the +same of myself. I named him after Boccaccio, to remind me to read +the 'Decameron' some day." + +"Judging by the way you talk," I said, "you ought to be quite a +writer yourself." + +"Talkers never write. They go on talking." + +There was a considerable silence. Mifflin relit his pipe and watched +the landscape with a shrewd eye. I held the reins loosely, and Peg +ambled along with a steady clop-clop. Parnassus creaked musically, +and the mid-afternoon sun lay rich across the road. We passed +another farm, but I did not suggest stopping as I felt we ought to +push on. Mifflin seemed lost in meditation, and I began to wonder, +a little uneasily, how the adventure would turn out. This quaintly +masterful little man was a trifle disconcerting. Across the next +ridge I could see the Greenbriar church spire shining white. + +"Do you know this part of the country?" I asked finally. + +"Not this exact section. I've been in Port Vigor often, but then I +was on the road that runs along the Sound. I suppose this village +ahead is Greenbriar?" + +"Yes," I said. "It's about thirteen miles from there to Port Vigor. +How do you expect to get back to Brooklyn?" + +"Oh, Brooklyn?" he said vaguely. "Yes, I'd forgotten about Brooklyn +for the minute. I was thinking of my book. Why, I guess I'll take +the train from Port Vigor. The trouble is, you can never get to +Brooklyn without going through New York. It's symbolic, I suppose." + +Again there was a silence. Finally he said, "Is there another town +between Greenbriar and Port Vigor?" + +"Yes, Shelby," I said. "About five miles from Greenbriar." + +"That'll be as far as you'll get to-night," he said. "I'll see you +safe to Shelby, and then make tracks for Port Vigor. I hope there's +a decent inn at Shelby where you can stop overnight." + +I hoped so, too, but I wasn't going to let him see that with the +waning afternoon my enthusiasm was a little less robust. I was +wondering what Andrew was thinking, and whether Mrs. McNally had +left things in good order. Like most Swedes she had to be watched or +she left her work only three quarters done. And I didn't depend any +too much on her daughter Rosie to do the housework efficiently. I +wondered what kind of meals Andrew would get. And probably he would +go right on wearing his summer underclothes, although I had already +reminded him about changing. Then there were the chickens... + +Well, the Rubicon was crossed now, and there was nothing to be done. + +To my surprise, little Redbeard had divined my anxiety. "Now don't +you worry about the Sage," he said kindly. "A man that draws his +royalties isn't going to starve. By the bones of John Murray, his +publishers can send him a cook if necessary! This is a holiday for +you, and don't you forget it." + +And with this cheering sentiment in my mind, we rolled sedately down +the hill toward Greenbriar. + +I am about as hardy as most folks, I think, but I confess I balked a +little at the idea of facing the various people I know in Greenbriar +as the owner of a bookvan and the companion of a literary huckster. +Also I recollected that if Andrew should try to trace us it would be +as well for me to keep out of sight. So after telling Mr. Mifflin +how I felt about matters I dived into the Parnassus and lay down +most comfortably on the bunk. Bock the terrier joined me, and I +rested there in great comfort of mind and body as we ambled down the +grade. The sun shone through the little skylight gilding a tin pan +that hung over the cook stove. Tacked here and there were portraits +of authors, and I noticed a faded newspaper cutting pinned up. The +headlines ran: "Literary Pedlar Lectures on Poetry." I read it +through. Apparently the Professor (so I had begun to call him, as +the aptness of the nickname stuck in my mind) had given a lecture +in Camden, N.J., where he had asserted that Tennyson was a greater +poet than Walt Whitman; and the boosters of the Camden poet had +enlivened the evening with missiles. It seems that the chief Whitman +disciple in Camden is Mr. Traubel; and Mr. Mifflin had started the +rumpus by asserting that Tennyson, too, had "Traubels of his own." +What an absurd creature the Professor was, I thought, as I lay +comfortably lulled by the rolling wheels. + +Greenbriar is a straggling little town, built around a large common +meadow. Mifflin's general plan in towns, he had told me, was to +halt Parnassus in front of the principal store or hotel, and when +a little throng had gathered he would put up the flaps of the van, +distribute his cards, and deliver a harangue on the value of good +books. I lay concealed inside, but I gathered from the sounds that +this was what was happening. We came to a stop; I heard a growing +murmur of voices and laughter outside, and then the click of the +raised sides of the wagon. I heard Mifflin's shrill, slightly nasal +voice making facetious remarks as he passed out the cards. Evidently +Bock was quite accustomed to the routine, for though his tail wagged +gently when the Professor began to talk, he lay quite peaceably +dozing at my feet. + +"My friends," said Mr. Mifflin. "You remember Abe Lincoln's joke +about the dog? If you call a tail a leg, said Abe, how many legs +has a dog? Five, you answer. No, says Abe; because calling a tail a +leg doesn't make it a leg. Well, there are lots of us in the same +case as that dog's tail. Calling us men doesn't _make_ us men. No +creature on earth has a right to think himself a human being if he +doesn't know at least one good book. The man that spends every +evening chewing Piper Heidsieck at the store is unworthy to catch +the intimations of a benevolent Creator. The man that's got a few +good books on his shelf is making his wife happy, giving his +children a square deal, and he's likely to be a better citizen +himself. How about that, parson?" + +I heard the deep voice of Reverend Kane, the Methodist minister: +"You're dead right, Professor!" he shouted. "Tell us some more about +books. I'm right with you!" Evidently Mr. Kane had been attracted +by the sight of Parnassus, and I could hear him muttering to himself +as he pulled one or two books from the shelves. How surprised he +would have been if he had known I was inside the van! I took the +precaution of slipping the bolt of the door at the back, and drew +the curtains. Then I crept back into the bunk. I began to imagine +what an absurd situation there would be if Andrew should arrive on +the scene. + +"You are all used to hucksters and pedlars and fellows selling every +kind of junk from brooms to bananas," said the Professor's voice. +"But how often does any one come round here to sell you books? +You've got your town library, I dare say; but there are some books +that folks ought to own. I've got 'em all here from Bibles to cook +books. They'll speak for themselves. Step up to the shelves, +friends, and pick and choose." + +I heard the parson asking the price of something he had found on the +shelves, and I believe he bought it; but the hum of voices around +the flanks of Parnassus was very soothing, and in spite of my +interest in what was going on I'm afraid I fell asleep. I must have +been pretty tired; anyway I never felt the van start again. The +Professor says he looked in through the little window from the +driver's seat, and saw me sound asleep. And the next thing I knew I +woke up with a start to find myself rolling leisurely in the dark. +Bock was still lying over my feet, and there was a faint, musical +clang from the bucket under the van which struck against something +now and then. The Professor was sitting in front, with a lighted +lantern hanging from the peak of the van roof. He was humming some +outlandish song to himself, with a queer, monotonous refrain: + + Shipwrecked was I off Soft Perowse + And right along the shore, + And so I did resolve to roam + The country to explore. + Tommy rip fal lal and a balum tip + Tommy rip fal lal I dee; + And so I did resolve to roam + The country for to see! + +I jumped out of the bunk, cracked my shins against something, and +uttered a rousing halloo. Parnassus stopped, and the Professor +pushed back the sliding window behind the driver's seat. + +"Heavens!" I said. "Father Time, what o'clock is it?" + +"Pretty near supper time, I reckon. You must have fallen asleep +while I was taking money from the Philistines. I made nearly three +dollars for you. Let's pull up along the road and have a bite to +eat." + +He guided Pegasus to one side of the road, and then showed me how +to light the swinging lamp that hung under the skylight. "No use +to light the stove on a lovely evening like this," he said. "I'll +collect some sticks and we can cook outside. You get out your basket +of grub and I'll make a fire." He unhitched Pegasus, tied her to a +tree, and gave her a nose bag of oats. Then he rooted around for +some twigs and had a fire going in a jiffy. In five minutes I had +bacon and scrambled eggs sizzling in a frying pan, and he had +brought out a pail of water from the cooler under the bunk, and was +making tea. + +I never enjoyed a picnic so much! It was a perfect autumn evening, +windless and frosty, with a dead black sky and a tiny rim of new +moon like a thumb-nail paring. We had our eggs and bacon, washed +down with tea and condensed milk, and followed by bread and jam. +The little fire burned blue and cozy, and we sat on each side of it +while Bock scoured the pan and ate the crusts. + +"This your own bread, Miss McGill?" he asked. + +"Yes," I said. "I was calculating the other day that I've baked more +than 400 loaves a year for the last fifteen years. That's more than +6,000 loaves of bread. They can put that on my tombstone." + +"The art of baking bread is as transcendent a mystery as the art of +making sonnets," said Redbeard. "And then your hot biscuits--they +might be counted as shorter lyrics, I suppose--triolets perhaps. +That makes quite an anthology, or a doxology, if you prefer it." + +"Yeast is yeast, and West is West," I said, and was quite surprised +at my own cleverness. I hadn't made a remark like that to Andrew in +five years. + +"I see you are acquainted with Kipling," he said. + +"Oh, yes, every governess is." + +"Where and whom did you govern?" + +"I was in New York, with the family of a wealthy stockbroker. There +were three children. I used to take them walking in Central Park." + +"Did you ever go to Brooklyn?" he asked abruptly. + +"Never," I replied. + +"Ah!" he said. "That's just the trouble. New York is Babylon; +Brooklyn is the true Holy City. New York is the city of envy, office +work, and hustle; Brooklyn is the region of homes and happiness. It +is extraordinary: poor, harassed New Yorkers presume to look down on +low-lying, home-loving Brooklyn, when as a matter of fact it is the +precious jewel their souls are thirsting for and they never know it. +Broadway: think how symbolic the name is. Broad is the way that +leadeth to destruction! But in Brooklyn the ways are narrow, and +they lead to the Heavenly City of content. Central Park: there you +are--the centre of things, hemmed in by walls of pride. Now how +much better is Prospect Park, giving a fair view over the hills of +humility! There is no hope for New Yorkers, for they glory in their +skyscraping sins; but in Brooklyn there is the wisdom of the lowly." + +"So you think that if I had been a governess in Brooklyn I should +have been so contented that I would never have come with Andrew +and compiled my anthology of 6,000 loaves of bread and the lesser +lyrics?" + +But the volatile Professor had already soared to other points of +view, and was not to be thwarted by argument. + +"Of course Brooklyn is a dingy place, really," he admitted. "But to +me it symbolizes a state of mind, whereas New York is only a state +of pocket. You see I was a boy in Brooklyn: it still trails clouds +of glory for me. When I get back there and start work on my book +I shall be as happy as Nebuchadnezzar when he left off grass and +returned to tea and crumpets. 'Literature Among the Farmers' I'm +going to call it, but that's a poor title. I'd like to read you some +of my notes for it." + +I'm afraid I poorly concealed a yawn. As a matter of fact I was +sleepy, and it was growing chilly. + +"Tell me first," I said, "where in the world are we, and what time +is it?" + +He pulled out a turnip watch. "It's nine o'clock," he said, "and +we're about two miles from Shelby, I should reckon. Perhaps we'd +better get along. They told me in Greenbriar that the Grand Central +Hotel in Shelby is a good place to stop at. That's why I wasn't +anxious to get there. It sounds so darned like New York." + +He bundled the cooking utensils back into Parnassus, hitched Peg up +again, and tied Bock to the stern of the van. Then he insisted on +giving me the two dollars and eighty cents he had collected in +Greenbriar. I was really too sleepy to protest, and of course it was +mine anyway. We creaked off along the dark and silent road between +the pine woods. I think he talked fluently about his pilgrim's +progress among the farmers of a dozen states, but (to be honest) +I fell asleep in my corner of the seat. I woke up when we halted +before the one hotel in Shelby--a plain, unimposing country inn, +despite its absurd name. I left him to put Parnassus and the animals +away for the night, while I engaged a room. Just as I got my key +from the clerk he came into the dingy lobby. + +"Well, Mr. Mifflin," I said. "Shall I see you in the morning?" + +"I had intended to push on to Port Vigor to-night," he said, "but as +it's fully eight miles (they tell me), I guess I'll bivouac here. I +think I'll go into the smoking-room and put them wise to some good +books. We won't say good-bye till to-morrow." + +My room was pleasant and clean (fairly so). I took my suit case up +with me and had a hot bath. As I fell asleep I heard a shrill voice +ascending from below, punctuated with masculine laughter. The +Pilgrim was making more converts! + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +I had a curious feeling of bewilderment when I woke the next +morning. The bare room with the red-and-blue rag carpet and green +china toilet set was utterly strange. In the hall outside I heard a +clock strike. "Heavens!" I thought, "I've overslept myself nearly +two hours. What on earth will Andrew do for breakfast?" And then +as I ran to close the window I saw the blue Parnassus with its +startling red letters standing in the yard. Instantly I remembered. +And discreetly peeping from behind the window shade I saw that the +Professor, armed with a tin of paint, was blotting out his own name +on the side of the van, evidently intending to substitute mine. That +was something I had not thought of. However, I might as well make +the best of it. + +I dressed promptly, repacked my bag, and hurried downstairs for +breakfast. The long table was nearly empty, but one or two men +sitting at the other end eyed me curiously. Through the window I +could see my name in large, red letters, growing on the side of the +van, as the Professor diligently wielded his brush. And when I had +finished my coffee and beans and bacon I noticed with some amusement +that the Professor had painted out the line about Shakespeare, +Charles Lamb, and so on, and had substituted new lettering. The +sign now read: + + H. MCGILL'S + TRAVELLING PARNASSUS + GOOD BOOKS FOR SALE + COOK BOOKS A SPECIALTY + INQUIRE WITHIN + +Evidently he distrusted my familiarity with the classics. + +I paid my bill at the desk, and was careful also to pay the charge +for putting up the horse and van overnight. Then I strolled into the +stable yard, where I found Mr. Mifflin regarding his handiwork with +satisfaction. He had freshened up all the red lettering, which shone +brilliantly in the morning sunlight. + +"Good-morning," I said. + +He returned it. + +"There!" he cried--"Parnassus is really yours! All the world lies +before you! And I've got some more money for you. I sold some books +last night. I persuaded the hotel keeper to buy several volumes of +O. Henry for his smoking-room shelf, and I sold the 'Waldorf Cook +Book' to the cook. My! wasn't her coffee awful? I hope the cook book +will better it." + +He handed me two limp bills and a handful of small change. I took it +gravely and put it in my purse. This was really not bad--more than +ten dollars in less than twenty-four hours. + +"Parnassus seems to be a gold mine," I said. + +"Which way do you think you'll go?" he asked. + +"Well, as I know you want to get to Port Vigor I might just as well +give you a lift that way," I answered. + +"Good! I was hoping you'd say that. They tell me the stage for Port +Vigor doesn't leave till noon, and I think it would kill me to hang +around here all morning with no books to sell. Once I get on the +train I'll be all right." + +Bock was tied up in a corner of the yard, under the side door of the +hotel. I went over to release him while the Professor was putting +Peg into harness. As I stooped to unfasten the chain from his collar +I heard some one talking through the telephone. The hotel lobby was +just over my head, and the window was open. + +"What did you say?" + +"---- ---- ---- ----" + +"McGill? Yes, sir, registered here last night. She's here now." + +I didn't wait to hear more. Unfastening Bock, I hurried to tell +Mifflin. His eyes sparkled. + +"The Sage is evidently on our spoor," he chuckled. "Well, let's be +off. I don't see what he can do even if he overhauls us." + +The clerk was calling me from the window: "Miss McGill, your +brother's on the wire and asks to speak to you." + +"Tell him I'm busy," I retorted, and climbed onto the seat. It was +not a diplomatic reply, I'm afraid, but I was too exhilarated by +the keen morning and the spirit of adventure to stop to think of a +better answer. Mifflin clucked to Peg, and off we went. + +The road from Shelby to Port Vigor runs across the broad hill slopes +that trend toward the Sound; and below, on our left, the river lay +glittering in the valley. It was a perfect landscape: the woods +were all bronze and gold; the clouds were snowy white and seemed +like heavenly washing hung out to air; the sun was warm and swam +gloriously in an arch of superb blue. My heart was uplifted indeed. +For the first time, I think, I knew how Andrew feels on those +vagabond trips of his. Why had all this been hidden from me before? +Why had the transcendent mystery of baking bread blinded me so long +to the mysteries of sun and sky and wind in the trees? We passed a +white farmhouse close to the road. By the gate sat the farmer on a +log, whittling a stick and smoking his pipe. Through the kitchen +window I could see a woman blacking the stove. I wanted to cry out: +"Oh, silly woman! Leave your stove, your pots and pans and chores, +even if only for one day! Come out and see the sun in the sky and +the river in the distance!" The farmer looked blankly at Parnassus +as we passed, and then I remembered my mission as a distributor +of literature. Mifflin was sitting with one foot on his bulging +portmanteau, watching the tree tops rocking in the cool wind. He +seemed to be far away in a morning muse. I threw down the reins and +accosted the farmer. + +"Good-morning, friend." + +"Morning to you, ma'am," he said firmly. + +"I'm selling books," I said. "I wonder if there isn't something you +need?" + +"Thanks, lady," he said, "but I bought a mort o' books last year an' +I don't believe I'll ever read 'em this side Jordan. A whole set o' +'Funereal Orations' what an agent left on me at a dollar a month. I +could qualify as earnest mourner at any death-bed merrymakin' now, I +reckon." + +"You need some books to teach you how to live, not how to die," I +said. "How about your wife--wouldn't she enjoy a good book? How +about some fairy tales for the children?" + +"Bless me," he said, "I ain't got a wife. I never was a daring man, +and I guess I'll confine my melancholy pleasures to them funereal +orators for some time yet." + +"Well, now, hold on a minute!" I exclaimed. "I've got just the thing +for you." I had been looking over the shelves with some care, and +remembered seeing a copy of "Reveries of a Bachelor." I clambered +down, raised the flap of the van (it gave me quite a thrill to do it +myself for the first time), and hunted out the book. I looked inside +the cover and saw the letters _n m_ in Mifflin's neat hand. + +"Here you are," I said. "I'll sell you that for thirty cents." + +"Thank you kindly, ma'am," he said courteously. "But honestly I +wouldn't know what to do with it. I am working through a government +report on scabworm and fungus, and I sandwich in a little of them +funereal speeches with it, and honestly that's about all the readin' +I figure on. That an' the Port Vigor Clarion." + +I saw that he really meant it, so I climbed back on the seat. I +would have liked to talk to the woman in the kitchen who was peering +out of the window in amazement, but I decided it would be better to +jog on and not waste time. The farmer and I exchanged friendly +salutes, and Parnassus rumbled on. + +The morning was so lovely that I did not feel talkative, and as the +Professor seemed pensive I said nothing. But as Peg plodded slowly +up a gentle slope he suddenly pulled a book out of his pocket and +began to read aloud. I was watching the river, and did not turn +round, but listened carefully: + + +"Rolling cloud, volleying wind, and wheeling sun--the blue +tabernacle of sky, the circle of the seasons, the sparkling +multitude of the stars--all these are surely part of one rhythmic, +mystic whole. Everywhere, as we go about our small business, we +must discern the fingerprints of the gigantic plan, the orderly and +inexorable routine with neither beginning nor end, in which death +is but a preface to another birth, and birth the certain forerunner +of another death. We human beings are as powerless to conceive the +motive or the moral of it all as the dog is powerless to understand +the reasoning in his master's mind. He sees the master's acts, +benevolent or malevolent, and wags his tail. But the master's acts +are always inscrutable to him. And so with us. + +"And therefore, brethren, let us take the road with a light heart. +Let us praise the bronze of the leaves and the crash of the surf +while we have eyes to see and ears to hear. An honest amazement at +the unspeakable beauties of the world is a comely posture for the +scholar. Let us all be scholars under Mother Nature's eye. + + +"How do you like that?" he asked. + +"A little heavy, but very good," I said. "There's nothing in it +about the transcendent mystery of baking bread!" + +He looked rather blank. + +"Do you know who wrote it?" he asked. + +I made a valiant effort to summon some of my governessly +recollections of literature. + +"I give it up," I said feebly. "Is it Carlyle?" + +"That is by Andrew McGill," he said. "One of his cosmic passages +which are now beginning to be reprinted in schoolbooks. The blighter +writes well." + +I began to be uneasy lest I should be put through a literary +catechism, so I said nothing, but roused Peg into an amble. To tell +the truth I was more curious to hear the Professor talk about his +own book than about Andrew's. I had always carefully refrained from +reading Andrew's stuff, as I thought it rather dull. + +"As for me," said the Professor, "I have no facility at the grand +style. I have always suffered from the feeling that it's better to +read a good book than to write a poor one; and I've done so much +mixed reading in my time that my mind is full of echoes and voices +of better men. But this book I'm worrying about now really deserves +to be written, I think, for it has a message of its own." + +He gazed almost wistfully across the sunny valley. In the distance +I caught a glint of the Sound. The Professor's faded tweed cap was +slanted over one ear, and his stubby little beard shone bright red +in the sun. I kept a sympathetic silence. He seemed pleased to have +some one to talk to about his precious book. + +"The world is full of great writers about literature," he said, +"but they're all selfish and aristocratic. Addison, Lamb, Hazlitt, +Emerson, Lowell--take any one you choose--they all conceive the love +of books as a rare and perfect mystery for the few--a thing of the +secluded study where they can sit alone at night with a candle, +and a cigar, and a glass of port on the table and a spaniel on the +hearthrug. What I say is, who has ever gone out into high roads and +hedges to bring literature home to the plain man? To bring it home +to his business and bosom, as somebody says? The farther into the +country you go, the fewer and worse books you find. I've spent +several years joggling around with this citadel of crime, and by +the bones of Ben Ezra I don't think I ever found a really good book +(except the Bible) at a farmhouse yet, unless I put it there myself. +The mandarins of culture--what do they do to teach the common folk +to read? It's no good writing down lists of books for farmers and +compiling five-foot shelves; you've got to go out and visit the +people yourself--take the books to them, talk to the teachers and +bully the editors of country newspapers and farm magazines and tell +the children stories--and then little by little you begin to get +good books circulating in the veins of the nation. It's a great +work, mind you! It's like carrying the Holy Grail to some of these +way-back farmhouses. And I wish there were a thousand Parnassuses +instead of this one. I'd never give it up if it weren't for my book: +but I want to write about my ideas in the hope of stirring other +folk up, too. I don't suppose there's a publisher in the country +will take it!" + +"Try Mr. Decameron," I said. "He's always been very nice to Andrew." + +"Think what it would mean," he cried, waving an eloquent hand, "if +some rich man would start a fund to equip a hundred or so wagons +like this to go huckstering literature around through the rural +districts. It would pay, too, once you got started. Yes, by the +bones of Webster! I went to a meeting of booksellers once, at some +hotel in New York, and told 'em about my scheme. They laughed at me. +But I've had more fun toting books around in this Parnassus than I +could have had in fifty years sitting in a bookstore, or teaching +school, or preaching. Life's full of savour when you go creaking +along the road like this. Look at today, with the sun and the air +and the silver clouds. Best of all, though, I love the rainy days. I +used to pull up alongside the road, throw a rubber blanket over Peg, +and Bock and I would curl up in the bunk and smoke and read. I used +to read aloud to Bock: we went through 'Midshipman Easy' together, +and a good deal of Shakespeare. He's a very bookish dog. We've seen +some queer experiences in this Parnassus." + +The hill road from Shelby to Port Vigor is a lonely one, as most +of the farmhouses lie down in the valley. If I had known better we +might have taken the longer and more populous way, but as a matter +of fact I was enjoying the wide view and the solitary road lying +white in the sunshine. We jogged along very pleasantly. Once more we +stopped at a house where Mifflin pleaded for a chance to exercise +his art. I was much amused when he succeeded in selling a copy of +"Grimm's Fairy Tales" to a shrewish spinster on the plea that she +would enjoy reading the stories to her nephews and nieces who were +coming to visit her. + +"My!" he chuckled, as he gave me the dingy quarter he had extracted. +"There's nothing in that book as grim as she is!" + +A little farther on we halted by a roadside spring to give Peg a +drink, and I suggested lunch. I had laid in some bread and cheese in +Shelby, and with this and some jam we made excellent sandwiches. As +we were sitting by the fence the motor stage trundled past on its +way to Port Vigor. A little distance down the road it halted, and +then went on again. I saw a familiar figure walking back toward us. + +"Now I'm in for it," I said to the Professor. "Here's Andrew!" + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + + +Andrew is just as thin as I am fat, and his clothes hang on him in +the most comical way. He is very tall and shambling, wears a ragged +beard and a broad Stetson hat, and suffers amazingly from hay fever +in the autumn. (In fact, his essay on "Hay Fever" is the best thing +he ever wrote, I think.) As he came striding up the road I noticed +how his trousers fluttered at the ankles as the wind plucked at +them. The breeze curled his beard back under his chin and his face +was quite dark with anger. I couldn't help being amused; he looked +so funny. + +"The Sage looks like Bernard Shaw," whispered Mifflin. + +I always believe in drawing first blood. + +"Good-morning, Andrew," I called cheerfully. "Want to buy any +books?" I halted Pegasus, and Andrew stood a little in front of +the wheel--partly out of breath and mostly out of temper. + +"What on earth is this nonsense, Helen?" he said angrily. "You've +led me the deuce of a chase since yesterday. And who is this--this +person you're driving with?" + +"Andrew," I said, "you forget your manners. Let me introduce Mr. +Mifflin. I have bought his caravan and am taking a holiday, selling +books. Mr. Mifflin is on his way to Port Vigor where he takes the +train to Brooklyn." + +Andrew stared at the Professor without speaking. I could tell by the +blaze in his light-blue eyes that he was thoroughly angry, and I +feared things would be worse before they were better. Andrew is slow +to wrath, but a very hard person to deal with when roused. And I had +some inkling by this time of the Professor's temperament. Moreover, +I am afraid that some of my remarks had rather prejudiced him +against Andrew, as a brother at any rate and apart from his +excellent prose. + +Mifflin had the next word. He had taken off his funny little cap, +and his bare skull shone like an egg. I noticed a little sort of +fairy ring of tiny drops around his crown. + +"My dear sir," said Mifflin, "the proceedings look somewhat unusual, +but the facts are simple to narrate. Your sister has bought this van +and its contents, and I have been instructing her in my theories of +the dissemination of good books. You as a literary man..." + +Andrew paid absolutely no attention to the Professor, and I saw a +slow flush tinge Mifflin's sallow cheek. + +"Look here, Helen," said Andrew, "do you think I propose to have my +sister careering around the State with a strolling vagabond? Upon my +soul you ought to have better sense--and at your age and weight! I +got home yesterday and found your ridiculous note. I went to Mrs. +Collins, and she knew nothing. I went to Mason's, and found him +wondering who had bilked his telephone. I suppose you did that. He +had seen this freight car of yours and put me on the track. But my +God! I never thought to see a woman of forty abducted by gypsies!" + +Mifflin was about to speak but I waved him back. + +"Now see here Andrew," I said, "you talk too quickly. A woman of +forty (you exaggerate, by the way) who has compiled an anthology +of 6,000 loaves of bread and dedicated it to you deserves some +courtesy. When _you_ want to run off on some vagabond tour or other +you don't hesitate to do it. You expect me to stay home and do +the Lady Eglantine in the poultry yard. By the ghost of Susan B. +Anthony, I won't do it! This is the first real holiday I've had in +fifteen years, and I'm going to suit myself." + +Andrew's mouth opened, but I shook my fist so convincingly that he +halted. + +"I bought this Parnassus from Mr. Mifflin fair and square for four +hundred dollars. That's the price of about thirteen hundred dozen +eggs," I said. (I had worked this out in my head while Mifflin was +talking about his book.) + +"The money's mine, and I'm going to use it my own way. Now, Andrew +McGill, if you want to buy any books, you can parley with me. +Otherwise, I'm on my way. You can expect me back when you see me." +I handed him one of Mifflin's little cards, which were in a pocket +at the side of the van, and gathered up the reins. I was really +angry, for Andrew had been both unreasonable and insulting. + +Andrew looked at the card, and tore it in halves. He looked at the +side of Parnassus where the fresh red lettering was still damp. + +"Well, upon my word," he said, "you must be crazy." He burst into a +violent fit of sneezing--a last touch of hay fever, I suspect, as +there was still goldenrod in the meadows. He coughed and sneezed +furiously, which made him madder than ever. At last he turned to +Mifflin who was sitting bald-headed with a flushed face and very +bright eyes. Andrew took him all in, the shabby Norfolk jacket, the +bulging memorandum book in his pocket, the stuffed portmanteau under +his foot, even the copy of "Happiness and Hayseed" which had dropped +to the floor and lay back up. + +"Look here, you," said Andrew, "I don't know by what infernal arts +you cajoled my sister away to go vagabonding in a huckster's wagon, +but I know this, that if you've cheated her out of her money I'll +have the law on you." + +I tried to insert a word of protest, but matters had gone too far. +The Professor was as mad as Andrew now. + +"By the bones of Piers Plowman," he said, "I had expected to meet a +man of letters and the author of this book"--he held up "Happiness +and Hayseed"--"but I see I was mistaken. I tell you, sir, a man who +would insult his sister before a stranger, as you have done, is an +oaf and a cad." He threw the book over the hedge, and before I could +say a word he had vaulted over the off wheel and ran round behind +the van. + +"Look here sir," he said, with his little red beard bristling, "your +sister is over age and acting of her own free will. By the bones of +the Baptist, I don't blame her for wanting a vacation if this is the +way you treat her. She is nothing to me, sir, and I am nothing to +her, but I propose to be a teacher to you. Put up your hands and +I'll give you a lesson!" + +This was too much for me. I believe I screamed aloud, and started +to clamber from the van. But before I could do anything the two +fanatics had begun to pummel each other. I saw Andrew swing savagely +at Mifflin, and Mifflin hit him square on the chin. Andrew's hat +fell on the road. Peg stood placidly, and Bock made as if to grab +Andrew's leg, but I hopped out and seized him. + +It was certainly a weird sight. I suppose I should have wrung my +hands and had hysterics, but as a matter of fact I was almost +amused, it was so silly. Thank goodness the road was deserted. + +Andrew was a foot taller than the Professor, but awkward, loosely +knit, and unmuscular, while the little Redbeard was wiry as a cat. +Also Andrew was so furious that he was quite beside himself, and +Mifflin was in the cold anger that always wins. Andrew landed a +couple of flailing blows on the other man's chest and shoulders, +but in thirty seconds he got another punch on the chin followed by +one on the nose that tumbled him over backward. + +Andrew sat in the road fishing for a handkerchief, and Mifflin stood +glaring at him, but looking very ill at ease. Neither of them said a +word. Bock broke away from me and capered and danced about Mifflin's +feet as if it were all a game. It was an extraordinary scene. + +Andrew got up, mopping his bleeding nose. + +"Upon my soul," he said, "I almost respect you for that punch. But +by Jove I'll have the law on you for kidnapping my sister. You're a +fine kind of a pirate." + +Mifflin said nothing. + +"Don't be a fool, Andrew" I said. "Can't you see that I want a +little adventure of my own? Go home and bake six thousand loaves of +bread, and by the time they're done I'll be back again. I think two +men of your age ought to be ashamed of yourselves. I'm going off to +sell books." And with that I climbed up to the seat and clucked to +Pegasus. Andrew and Mifflin and Bock remained standing in the road. + +I was mad all the way through. I was mad at both men for behaving +like schoolboys. I was mad at Andrew for being so unreasonable, +yet in a way I admired him for it; I was mad at Mifflin for giving +Andrew a bloody nose, and yet I appreciated the spirit in which it +was done. I was mad at myself for causing all the trouble, and I was +mad at Parnassus. If there had been a convenient cliff handy I would +have pushed the old thing over it. But now I was in for it, and just +had to go on. Slowly I rolled up a long grade, and then saw Port +Vigor lying ahead and the broad blue stretches of the Sound. + +Parnassus rumbled on with its pleasant creak, and the mellow sun and +sweep of the air soon soothed me. I began to taste salt in the wind, +and above the meadows two or three seagulls were circling. Like +all women, my angry mood melted into a reaction of exaggerated +tenderness and I began to praise both Andrew and Mifflin in my +heart. How fine to have a brother so solicitous of his sister's +welfare and reputation! And yet, how splendid the little, scrawny +Professor had been! How quick to resent an insult and how bold to +avenge it! His absurd little tweed cap was lying on the seat, and I +picked it up almost sentimentally. The lining was frayed and torn. +From my suit case in the van I got out a small sewing kit, and +hanging the reins on a hook I began to stitch up the rents as +Peg jogged along. I thought with amusement of the quaint life +Mr. Mifflin had led in his "caravan of culture." I imagined him +addressing the audience of Whitman disciples in Camden, and wondered +how the fuss ended. I imagined him in his beloved Brooklyn, +strolling in Prospect Park and preaching to chance comers his gospel +of good books. How different was his militant love of literature +from Andrew's quiet satisfaction. And yet how much they really had +in common! It tickled me to think of Mifflin reading aloud from +"Happiness and Hayseed," and praising it so highly, just before +fighting with the author and giving him a bloody nose. I remembered +that I should have spoken to Andrew about feeding the hens, and +reminded him of his winter undergarments. What helpless creatures +men are, after all! + +I finished mending the cap in high good humour. + +I had hardly laid it down when I heard a quick step in the road +behind me, and looking back, there was Mifflin, striding along with +his bald pate covered with little beads of moisture. Bock trotted +sedately at his heels. I halted Peg. + +"Well," I said, "what's happened to Andrew?" + +The Professor still looked a bit shamefaced. "The Sage is a +tenacious person," he said. "We argued for a bit without much +satisfaction. As a matter of fact we nearly came to blows again, +only he got another waft of goldenrod, which started him sneezing, +and then his nose began bleeding once more. He is convinced that +I'm a ruffian, and said so in excellent prose. Honestly, I admire +him a great deal. I believe he intends to have the law on me. I +gave him my Brooklyn address in case he wants to follow the matter +up. I think I rather pleased him by asking him to autograph +'Happiness and Hayseed' for me. I found it lying in the ditch." + +"Well," I said, "you two are certainly a great pair of lunatics. You +both ought to go on the stage. You'd be as good as Weber and Fields. +Did he give you the autograph?" + +He pulled the book out of his pocket. Scrawled in it in pencil were +the words "I have shed blood for Mr. Mifflin. Andrew McGill." + +"I shall read the book again with renewed interest," said Mifflin. +"May I get in?" + +"By all means," I said. "There's Port Vigor in front of us." + +He put on his cap, noticed that it seemed to feel different, pulled +it off again, and then looked at me in a quaint embarrassment. + +"You are very good, Miss McGill," he said. + +"Where did Andrew go?" I asked. + +"He set off for Shelby on foot," Mifflin answered. "He has a grand +stride for walking. He suddenly remembered that he had left some +potatoes boiling on the fire yesterday afternoon, and said he must +get back to attend to them. He said he hoped you would send him a +postal card now and then. Do you know, he reminds me of Thoreau more +than ever." + +"He reminds me of a burnt cooking pot," I said. "I suppose all my +kitchenware will be in a horrible state when I get home." + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + + +Port Vigor is a fascinating old town. It is built on a point jutting +out into the Sound. Dimly in the distance one can see the end of +Long Island, which Mifflin viewed with sparkling eyes. It seemed to +bring him closer to Brooklyn. Several schooners were beating along +the estuary in the fresh wind, and there was a delicious tang of +brine in the air. We drove direct to the station where the Professor +alighted. We took his portmanteau, and shut Bock inside the van to +prevent the dog from following him. Then there was an awkward pause +as he stood by the wheel with his cap off. + +"Well, Miss McGill," he said, "there's an express train at five +o'clock, so with luck I shall be in Brooklyn to-night. My brother's +address is 600 Abingdon Avenue, and I hope when you're sending a +card to the Sage you'll let me have one, too. I shall be very +homesick for Parnassus, but I'd rather leave her with you than with +any one I know." + +He bowed very low, and before I could say a word he blew his nose +violently and hurried away. I saw him carrying his valise into the +station, and then he disappeared. I suppose that living alone with +Andrew for all these years has unused me to the eccentricities of +other people, but surely this little Redbeard was one of the +strangest beings one would be likely to meet. + +Bock yowled dismally inside, and I did not feel in any mood to sell +books in Port Vigor. I drove back into the town and stopped at a tea +shop for a pot of tea and some toast. When I came out I found that +quite a little crowd had collected, partly owing to the strange +appearance of Parnassus and partly because of Bock's plaintive cries +from within. Most of the onlookers seemed to suspect the outfit of +being part of a travelling menagerie, so almost against my will I +put up the flaps, tied Bock to the tail of the wagon, and began to +answer the humourous questions of the crowd. Two or three bought +books without any urging, and it was some time before I could get +away. Finally I shut up the van and pulled off, as I was afraid of +seeing some one I knew. As I turned into the Woodbridge Road I heard +the whistle of the five o'clock train to New York. + +The twenty miles of road between Sabine Farm and Port Vigor was all +familiar to me, but now to my relief I struck into a region that I +had never visited. On my occasional trips to Boston I had always +taken the train at Port Vigor, so the country roads were unknown. +But I had set out on the Woodbridge way because Mifflin had spoken +of a farmer, Mr. Pratt, who lived about four miles out of Port +Vigor, on the Woodbridge Road. Apparently Mr. Pratt had several +times bought books from the Professor and the latter had promised to +visit him again. So I felt in duty bound to oblige a good customer. + +After the varied adventures of the last two days it was almost a +relief to be alone to think things over. Here was I, Helen McGill, +in a queer case indeed. Instead of being home at Sabine Farm getting +supper, I was trundling along a strange road, the sole owner of a +Parnassus (probably the only one in existence), a horse, and a dog, +and a cartload of books on my hands. Since the morning of the day +before my whole life had twisted out of its accustomed orbit. I had +spent four hundred dollars of my savings; I had sold about thirteen +dollars' worth of books; I had precipitated a fight and met a +philosopher. Not only that, I was dimly beginning to evolve a new +philosophy of my own. And all this in order to prevent Andrew from +buying a lot more books! At any rate, I had been successful in +that. When he had seen Parnassus at last, he had hardly looked at +her--except in tones of scorn. I caught myself wondering whether the +Professor would allude to the incident in his book, and hoping that +he would send me a copy. But after all, why should he mention it? To +him it was only one of a thousand adventures. As he had said angrily +to Andrew, he was nothing to me, nor I to him. How could he realize +that this was the first adventure I had had in the fifteen years I +had been--what was it he called it?--compiling my anthology. Well, +the funny little gingersnap! + +I kept Bock tied to the back of the van, as I was afraid he might +take a notion to go in search of his master. As we jogged on, and +the falling sun cast a level light across the way, I got a bit +lonely. This solitary vagabonding business was a bit sudden after +fifteen years of home life. The road lay close to the water and I +watched the Sound grow a deeper blue and then a dull purple. I could +hear the surf pounding, and on the end of Long Island a far-away +lighthouse showed a ruby spark. I thought of the little gingersnap +roaring toward New York on the express, and wondered whether he was +travelling in a Pullman or a day coach. A Pullman chair would feel +easy after that hard Parnassus seat. + +By and by we neared a farmhouse which I took to be Mr. Pratt's. It +stood close to the road, with a big, red barn behind and a gilt +weathervane representing a galloping horse. Curiously enough Peg +seemed to recognize the place, for she turned in at the gate and +neighed vigorously. It must have been a favourite stopping place for +the Professor. + +Through a lighted window I could see people sitting around a table. +Evidently the Pratts were at supper. I drew up in the yard. Some one +looked out of a window, and I heard a girl's voice: + +"Why, Pa, here's Parnassus!" + +Gingersnap must have been a welcome visitor at that farm, for in an +instant the whole family turned out with a great scraping of chairs +and clatter of dishes. A tall, sunburnt man, in a clean shirt with +no collar, led the group, and then came a stout woman about my own +build, and a hired man and three children. + +"Good evening!" I said. "Is this Mr. Pratt?" + +"Sure thing!" said he. "Where's the Perfessor?" + +"On his way to Brooklyn," said I. "And I've got Parnassus. He told +me to be sure to call on you. So here we are." + +"Well, I want to know!" ejaculated Mrs. Pratt. "Think of Parnassus +turned suffrage! Ben, you put up the critters, and I'll take Mrs. +Mifflin in to supper." + +"Hold on there," I said. "My name's McGill--Miss McGill. See, +it's painted on the wagon. I bought the outfit from Mr. Mifflin. +A business proposition entirely." + +"Well, well," said Mr. Pratt. "We're glad to see any friend of the +Perfessor. Sorry he's not here, too. Come right in and have a bite +with us." + +They were certainly good-hearted folk, Mr. and Mrs. Ben Pratt. He +put Peg and Bock away in the barn and gave them their supper, while +Mrs. Pratt took me up to her spare bedroom and brought me a jug of +hot water. Then they all trooped back into the dining-room and the +meal began again. I am a connoisseur of farm cooking, I guess, and +I've got to hand it to Beulah Pratt that she was an A-1 housewife. +Her hot biscuit was perfect; the coffee was real Mocha, simmered, +not boiled; the cold sausage and potato salad was as good as any +Andrew ever got. And she had a smoking-hot omelet sent in for me, +and opened a pot of her own strawberry preserve. The children (two +boys and a girl) sat open-mouthed, nudging one another, and Mr. +Pratt got out his pipe while I finished up on stewed pears and cream +and chocolate cake. It was a regular meal. I wondered what Andrew +was eating and whether he had found the nest behind the wood pile +where the red hen always drops her eggs. + +"Well, well," said Mr. Pratt, "tell us about the Perfessor. We was +expectin' him here some time this fall. He generally gets here +around cider time." + +"I guess there isn't so much to tell," I said. "He stopped up at our +place the other day, and said he wanted to sell his outfit. So I +bought him out. He was pining to get back to Brooklyn and write a +book." + +"That book o' his!" said Mrs. Pratt. "He was always talkin' on it, +but I don't believe he ever started it yet." + +"Whereabout do you come from, Miss McGill?" said Pratt. I could see +he was mighty puzzled at a woman driving a vanload of books around +the country, alone. + +"Over toward Redfield," I said. + +"You any kin to that writer that lives up that way?" + +"You mean Andrew McGill?" I said. "He's my brother." + +"Do tell!" exclaimed Mrs. Pratt. "Why the Perfessor thought a +terrible lot of him. He read us all to sleep with one of his books +one night. Said he was the best literature in this State, I do +believe." + +I smiled to myself as I thought of the set-to on the road from +Shelby. + +"Well," said Pratt, "if the Perfessor's got any better friends +than us in these parts, I'm glad to meet 'em. He come here first +time 'bout four years ago. I was up working in the hayfield that +afternoon, and I heard a shout down by the mill pond. I looked over +that way and saw a couple o' kids waving their arms and screamin'. +I ran down the hill and there was the Perfessor just a pullin' my +boy Dick out o' the water. Dick's this one over here." + +Dick, a small boy of thirteen or so, grew red under his freckles. + +"The kids had been foolin' around on a raft there, an' first thing +you know Dick fell in, right into deep water, over by the dam. +Couldn't swim a stroke, neither. And the Perfessor, who jest +happened to be comin' along in that 'bus of his, heard the boys +yell. Didn't he hop out o' the wagon as spry as a chimpanzee, skin +over the fence, an' jump into the pond, swim out there an' tow the +boy in! Yes, ma'am, he saved that boy's life then an' no mistake. +That man can read me to sleep with poetry any night he has a mind +to. He's a plumb fine little firecracker, the Perfessor." + +Farmer Pratt pulled hard on his pipe. Evidently his friendship for +the wandering bookseller was one of the realities of his life. + +"Yes, ma'am," he went on, "that Perfessor has been a good friend to +me, sure enough. We brought him an' the boy back to the house. The +boy had gone down three times an' the Perfessor had to dive to find +him. They were both purty well all in, an' I tell you I was scared. +But we got Dick around somehow--rolled him on a sugar bar'l, an' +poured whiskey in him, an' worked his arms, an' put him in hot +blankets. By and by he come to. An' then I found that the Perfessor, +gettin' over the barb-wire fence so quick (when he lit for the pond) +had torn a hole in his leg you could put four fingers in. There was +his trouser all stiff with blood, an' he not sayin' a thing. +Pluckiest little runt in three States, by Judas! Well, we put _him_ +to bed, too, and then the Missus keeled over, an' we put _her_ to +bed. Three of them, by time the Doc got here. Great old summer +afternoon that was! But bless your heart, we couldn't keep the +Perfessor abed long. Next day he was out lookin' fer his poetry +books, an' first thing you know he had us all rounded up an' was +preachin' good literature at us like any evangelist. I guess we all +fell asleep over his poetry, so then he started on readin' that +'Treasure Island' story to us, wasn't it, Mother? By hickory, we +none of us fell asleep over that. He started the kids readin' so +they been at it ever since, and Dick's top boy at school now. +Teacher says she never saw such a boy for readin'. That's what +Perfessor done for us! Well, tell us 'bout yerself, Miss McGill. Is +there any good books we ought to read? I used to pine for some o' +that feller Shakespeare my father used to talk about so much, but +Perfessor always 'lowed it was over my head!" + +It gave me quite a thrill to hear all this about Mifflin. I +could readily imagine the masterful little man captivating the +simple-hearted Pratts with his eloquence and earnestness. And the +story of the mill pond had its meaning, too. Little Redbeard was no +mere wandering crank--he was a real man, cool and steady of brain, +with the earmarks of a hero. I felt a sudden gush of warmth as I +recalled his comical ways. + +Mrs. Pratt lit a fire in her Franklin stove and I racked my head +wondering how I could tread worthily in the Professor's footsteps. +Finally I fetched the "Jungle Book" from Parnassus and read them +the story of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. There was a long pause when I had +finished. + +"Say, Pa," said Dick shyly, "that mongoose was rather like +Professor, wasn't he!" + +Plainly the Professor was the traditional hero of this family, +and I began to feel rather like an impostor! + +I suppose it was foolish of me, but I had already made up my mind +to push on to Woodbridge that night. It could not be more than four +miles, and the time was not much after eight. I felt a little twinge +of quite unworthy annoyance because I was still treading in the +glamour of the Professor's influence. The Pratts would talk of +nothing else, and I wanted to get somewhere where I would be +estimated at my own value, not merely as his disciple. "Darn the +Redbeard," I said to myself, "I think he has bewitched these +people!" And in spite of their protests and invitations to stay the +night, I insisted on having Peg hitched up. I gave them the copy +of the "Jungle Book" as a small return for their hospitality, +and finally sold Mr. Pratt a little copy of "Lamb's Tales from +Shakespeare" which I thought he could read without brain fever. Then +I lit my lantern and after a chorus of good-byes Parnassus rolled +away. "Well," I said to myself as I turned into the high road once +more, "drat the gingersnap, he seems to hypnotize everybody... he +must be nearly in Brooklyn by this time!" + +It was very quiet along the road, also very dark, for the sky had +clouded over and I could see neither moon nor stars. As it was a +direct road I should have had no difficulty, and I suppose I must +have fallen into a doze during which Peg took a wrong turning. At +any rate, I realized about half-past nine that Parnassus was on a +much rougher road than the highway had any right to be, and there +were no telephone poles to be seen. I knew that they stretched +all along the main road, so plainly I had made a mistake. I was +reluctant for a moment to admit that I could be wrong, and just +then Peg stumbled heavily and stood still. She paid no heed to my +exhortations, and when I got out and carried my lantern to see +whether anything was in the way, I found that she had cast a shoe +and her foot was bleeding. The shoe must have dropped off some way +back and she had picked up a nail or something in the quick. I saw +no alternative but to stay where I was for the night. + +This was not very pleasant, but the adventures of the day had put +me into a stoical frame of mind, and I saw no good in repining. I +unhitched Peg, sponged her foot, and tied her to a tree. I would +have made more careful explorations to determine just where I was, +but a sharp patter of rain began to fall. So I climbed into my +Parnassus, took Bock in with me, and lit the swinging lamp. By this +time it was nearly ten o'clock. There was nothing to do but turn in, +so I took off my boots and lay down in the bunk. Bock lay quite +comfortably on the floor of the van. I meant to read for a while, +and so did not turn out the light, but I fell asleep almost +immediately. + +I woke up at half-past eleven and turned out the lamp, which had +made the van very warm. I opened the little windows front and back, +and would have opened the door, but I feared Bock might slip away. +It was still raining a little. To my annoyance I felt very wakeful. +I lay for some time listening to the patter of raindrops on the roof +and skylight--a very snug sound when one is warm and safe. Every now +and then I could hear Peg stamping in the underbrush. I was almost +dozing off again when Bock gave a low growl. + +No woman of my bulk has a right to be nervous, I guess, but +instantly my security vanished! The patter of the rain seemed +menacing, and I imagined a hundred horrors. I was totally alone and +unarmed, and Bock was not a large dog. He growled again, and I felt +worse than before. I imagined that I heard stealthy sounds in the +bushes, and once Peg snorted as though frightened. I put my hand +down to pat Bock, and found that his neck was all bristly, like a +fighting cock. He uttered a queer half growl, half whine, which +gave me a chill. Some one must be prowling about the van, but in the +falling rain I could hear nothing. + +I felt I must do something. I was afraid to call out lest I betray +the fact that there was only a woman in the van. My expedient was +absurd enough, but at any rate it satisfied my desire to act. I +seized one of my boots and banged vigorously on the floor, at the +same time growling in as deep and masculine a voice as I could +muster: "What the hell's the matter? What the hell's the matter?" +This sounds silly enough, I dare say, but it afforded me some +relief. And as Bock shortly ceased growling, it apparently served +some purpose. + +I lay awake for a long time, tingling all over with nervousness. +Then I began to grow calmer, and was getting drowsy almost in spite +of myself when I was aroused by the unmistakable sound of Bock's +tail thumping on the floor--a sure sign of pleasure. This puzzled +me quite as much as his growls. I did not dare strike a light, but +could hear him sniffing at the door of the van and whining with +eagerness. This seemed very uncanny, and again I crept stealthily +out of the bunk and pounded on the floor lustily, this time with the +frying pan, which made an unearthly din. Peg neighed and snorted, +and Bock began to bark. Even in my anxiety I almost laughed. "It +sounds like an insane asylum," I thought, and reflected that +probably the disturbance was only caused by some small animal. +Perhaps a rabbit or a skunk which Bock had winded and wanted to +chase. I patted him, and crawled into my bunk once more. + +But my real excitement was still to come. About half an hour later +I heard unmistakable footsteps alongside the van. Bock growled +furiously, and I lay in a panic. Something jarred one of the wheels. +Then broke out a most extraordinary racket. I heard quick steps, Peg +whinneyed, and something fell heavily against the back of the wagon. +There was a violent scuffle on the ground, the sound of blows, and +rapid breathing. With my heart jumping I peered out of one of the +back windows. There was barely any light, but dimly I could see a +tumbling mass which squirmed and writhed on the ground. Something +struck one of the rear wheels so that Parnassus trembled. I heard +hoarse swearing, and then the whole body, whatever it was, rolled +off into the underbrush. There was a terrific crashing and snapping +of twigs. Bock whined, growled, and pawed madly at the door. And +then complete silence. + +My nerves were quite shattered by this time. I don't think I had +been so frightened since childhood days when I awakened from a +nightmare. Little trickles of fear crept up and down my spine and my +scalp prickled. I pulled Bock on the bunk, and lay with one hand on +his collar. He, too, seemed agitated and sniffed gingerly now and +then. Finally, however, he gave a sigh and fell asleep. I judged it +might have been two o'clock, but I did not like to strike a light. +And at last I fell into a doze. + +When I woke the sun was shining brilliantly and the air was full of +the chirping of birds. I felt stiff and uneasy from sleeping in my +clothes, and my foot was numb from Bock's weight. + +I got up and looked out of the window. Parnassus was standing in a +narrow lane by a grove of birch trees. The ground was muddy, and +smeared with footprints behind the van. I opened the door and looked +around. The first thing I saw, on the ground by one of the wheels, +was a battered tweed cap. + + + +CHAPTER NINE + + +My feelings were as mixed as a crushed nut sundae. So the Professor +hadn't gone to Brooklyn after all! What did he mean by prowling +after me like a sleuth? Was it just homesickness for Parnassus? Not +likely! And then the horrible noises I had heard in the night; had +some tramp been hanging about the van in the hope of robbing me? Had +the tramp attacked Mifflin? Or had Mifflin attacked the tramp? Who +had got the better of it? + +I picked up the muddy cap and threw it into the van. Anyway, I had +problems of my own to tackle, and those of the Professor could wait. + +Peg whinneyed when she saw me. I examined her foot. Seeing it by +daylight the trouble was not hard to diagnose. A long, jagged piece +of slate was wedged in the frog of the foot. I easily wrenched it +out, heated some water, and gave the hoof another sponging. It +would be all right when shod once more. But where was the shoe? + +I gave the horse some oats, cooked an egg and a cup of coffee for +myself at the little kerosene stove, and broke up a dog biscuit +for Bock. I marvelled once more at the completeness of Parnassus' +furnishings. Bock helped me to scour the pan. He sniffed eagerly +at the cap when I showed it to him, and wagged his tail. + +It seemed to me that the only thing I could do was to leave +Parnassus and the animals where they were and retrace my steps as +far as the Pratt farm. Undoubtedly Mr. Pratt would be glad to sell +me a horse-shoe and send his hired man to do the job for me. I could +not drive Peg as she was, with a sore foot and without a shoe. I +judged Parnassus would be quite safe: the lane seemed to be a lonely +one leading to a deserted quarry. I tied Bock to the steps to act as +a guard, took my purse and the Professor's cap with me, locked the +door of the van, and set off along the back track. Bock whined and +tugged violently when he saw me disappearing, but I could see no +other course. + +The lane rejoined the main road about half a mile back. I must have +been asleep or I could never have made the mistake of turning off. +I don't see why Peg should have made the turn, unless her foot hurt +and she judged the side track would be a good place to rest. She +must have been well used to stopping overnight in the open. + +I strode along pondering over my adventures, and resolved to buy a +pistol when I got to Woodbridge. I remember thinking that I could +write quite a book now myself. Already I began to feel quite a +hardened pioneer. It doesn't take an adaptable person long to +accustom one's self to a new way of life, and the humdrum routine of +the farm certainly looked prosy compared to voyaging with Parnassus. +When I had got beyond Woodbridge, and had crossed the river, I would +begin to sell books in earnest. Also I would buy a notebook and jot +down my experiences. I had heard of bookselling as a profession +for women, but I thought that my taste of it was probably unique. +I might even write a book that would rival Andrew's--yes, and +Mifflin's. And that brought my thoughts to Barbarossa again. + +Of all extraordinary people, I thought, he certainly takes the +cake--and then, rounding a bend, I saw him sitting on a rail fence, +with his head shining in the sunlight. My heart gave a sort of jump. +I do believe I was getting fond of the Professor. He was examining +something which he held in his hand. + +"You'll get sunstroke," I said. "Here's your cap." And I pulled it +out of my pocket and tossed it to him. + +"Thanks," he said, as cool as you please. "And here's your +horse-shoe. Fair exchange!" + +I burst out laughing, and he looked disconcerted, as I hoped he +would. + +"I thought you'd be in Brooklyn by now," I said, "at 600 Abingdon +Avenue, laying out Chapter One. What do you mean by following me +this way? You nearly frightened me to death last night. I felt like +one of Fenimore Cooper's heroines, shut up in the blockhouse while +the redskins prowled about." + +He flushed and looked very uncomfortable. + +"I owe you an apology," he said. "I certainly never intended that +you should see me. I bought a ticket for New York and checked my +bag through. And then while I was waiting for the train it came +over me that your brother was right, and that it was a darned risky +thing for you to go jaunting about alone in Parnassus. I was afraid +something might happen. I followed along the road behind you, +keeping well out of sight." + +"Where were you while I was at Pratt's?" + +"Sitting not far down the road eating bread and cheese," he said. +"Also I wrote a poem, a thing I very rarely do." + +"Well, I hope your ears burned," I said, "for those Pratts have +certainly raised you to the peerage." + +He got more uncomfortable than ever. + +"Well," he said, "I dare say it was all an error, but anyway I _did_ +follow you. When you turned off into that lane, I kept pretty close +behind you. As it happens, I know this bit of country, and there are +very often some hoboes hanging around the old quarry up that lane. +They have a cave there where they go into winter quarters. I was +afraid some of them might bother you. You could hardly have chosen a +worse place to camp out. By the bones of George Eliot, Pratt ought +to have warned you. I can't conceive why you didn't stop at his +house overnight anyway." + +"If you must know, I got weary of hearing them sing your praises." + +I could see that he was beginning to get nettled. + +"I regret having alarmed you," he said. "I see that Peg has dropped +a shoe. If you'll let me fix it for you, after that I won't bother +you." + +We turned back again along the road, and I noticed the right side of +his face for the first time. Under the ear was a large livid bruise. + +"That hobo, or whoever he was," I said, "must have been a better +fighter than Andrew. I see he landed on your cheek. Are you always +fighting?" + +His annoyance disappeared. Apparently the Professor enjoyed a fight +almost as much as he did a good book. + +"Please don't regard the last twenty-four hours as typical of me," +he said with a chuckle. "I am so unused to being a squire of dames +that perhaps I take the responsibilities too seriously." + +"Did you sleep at all last night?" I asked. I think I began to +realize for the first time that the gallant little creature had been +out all night in a drizzling rain, simply to guard me from possible +annoyance; and I had been unforgivably churlish about it. + +"I found a very fine haystack in a field overlooking the quarry. +I crawled into the middle of it. A haystack is sometimes more +comfortable than a boarding-house." + +"Well," I said penitently, "I can never forgive myself for the +trouble I've caused you. It was awfully good of you to do what +you did. Please put your cap on and don't catch cold." + +We walked for several minutes in silence. I watched him out of the +corner of my eye. I was afraid he might have caught his death of +cold from being out all night in the wet, to say nothing of the +scuffle he had had with the tramp; but he really looked as chipper +as ever. + +"How do you like the wild life of a bookseller?" he said. +"You must read George Borrow. He would have enjoyed Parnassus." + +"I was just thinking, when I met you, that I could write a book +about my adventures." + +"Good!" he said. "We might collaborate." + +"There's another thing we might collaborate on," I said, "and +that's breakfast. I'm sure you haven't had any." + +"No," he said, "I don't think I have. I never lie when I know +I shan't be believed." + +"I haven't had any, either," I said. I thought that to tell an +untruth would be the least thing I could do to reward the little +man for his unselfishness. + +"Well," he said, "I really thought that by this time--" + +He broke off. "Was that Bock barking?" he asked sharply. + +We had been walking slowly, and had not yet reached the spot where +the lane branched from the main road. We were still about three +quarters of a mile from the place where I had camped overnight. We +both listened carefully, but I could hear nothing but the singing of +the telephone wires along the road. + +"No matter," he said. "I thought I heard a dog." But I noticed that +he quickened his pace. + +"I was saying," he continued, "that I had really thought to have +lost Parnassus for good by this morning, but I'm tickled to death to +have a chance to see her again. I hope she'll be as good a friend to +you as she has been to me. I suppose you'll sell her when you return +to the Sage?" + +"I don't know I'm sure," I said. "I must confess I'm still a little +at sea. My desire for an adventure seems to have let me in deeper +than I expected. I begin to see that there's more in this +bookselling game than I thought. Honestly, it's getting into my +blood." + +"Well, that's fine," he said heartily. "I couldn't have left +Parnassus in better hands. You must let me know what you do with +her, and then perhaps, when I've finished my book, I can buy her +back." + +We struck off into the lane. The ground was slippery under the trees +and we went single file, Mifflin in front. I looked at my watch--it +was nine o'clock, just an hour since I had left the van. As we +neared the spot Mifflin kept looking ahead through the birch trees +in a queer way. + +"What's the matter?" I said. "We're almost there, aren't we?" + +"We _are_ there," he said. "Here's the place." + +Parnassus was gone! + + + +CHAPTER TEN + + +We stood in complete dismay--I did, at any rate--for about as long +as it takes to peel a potato. There could be no doubt in which +direction the van had moved, for the track of the wheels was plain. +It had gone farther up the lane toward the quarry. In the earth, +which was still soggy, were a number of footprints. + +"By the bones of Polycarp!" exclaimed the Professor, "those hoboes +have stolen the van. I guess they think it'll make a fine Pullman +sleeper for them. If I'd realized there was more than one of them +I'd have hung around closer. They need a lesson." + +Good Lord! I thought, here's Don Quixote about to wade into another +fight. + +"Hadn't we better go back and get Mr. Pratt?" I asked. + +This was obviously the wrong thing to say. It put the fiery little +man all the more on his mettle. His beard bristled. "Nothing of the +sort!" he said. "Those fellows are cowards and vagabonds anyway. +They can't be far off; you haven't been away more than an hour, have +you? If they've done anything to Bock, by the bones of Chaucer, I'll +harry them. I _thought_ I heard him bark." + +He hurried up the lane, and I followed in a panicky frame of mind. +The track wound along a hillside, between a high bank and a forest +of birch trees. I think the distance can't have been more than a +quarter of a mile. Anyway, in a very few minutes the road made a +sharp twist to the right and we found ourselves looking down into +the quarry, over a sheer rocky drop of a hundred feet at least. +Below, drawn over to one side of the wall of rock, stood Parnassus. +Peg was between the shafts. Bock was nowhere to be seen. Sitting by +the van were three disreputable looking men. The smoke of a cooking +fire rose into the air; evidently they were making free with my +little larder. + +"Keep back," said the Professor softly. "Don't let them see us." He +flattened himself in the grass and crawled to the edge of the cliff. +I did the same, and we lay there, invisible from below, but quite +able to see everything in the quarry. The three tramps were +evidently enjoying an excellent breakfast. + +"This place is a regular hang-out for these fellows," Mifflin +whispered. "I've seen hoboes about here every year. They go into +winter quarters about the end of October, usually. There's an old +blasted-out section of this quarry that makes a sheltered dormitory +for them, and as the place isn't worked any more they're not +disturbed here so long as they don't make mischief in the +neighbourhood. We'll give them...." + +"Hands up!" said a rough voice behind us. I looked round. There was +a fat, red-faced villainous-looking creature covering us with a +shiny revolver. It was an awkward situation. Both the Professor and +I were lying full length on the ground. We were quite helpless. + +"Get up!" said the tramp in a husky, nasty voice. "I guess youse +thought we wasn't covering our trail? Well, we'll have to tie you +up, I reckon, while we get away with this Crystal Pallis of yourn." + +I scrambled to my feet, but to my surprise the Professor continued +to lie at full length. + +"Get up, deacon!" said the tramp again. "Get up on them graceful +limbs, _if_ you please." + +I guess he thought himself safe from attack by a woman. At any rate, +he bent over as if to grab Mifflin by the neck. I saw my chance +and jumped on him from behind. I am heavy, as I have said, and he +sprawled on the ground. My doubts as to the pistol being loaded were +promptly dissolved, for it went off like a cannon. Nobody was in +front of it, however, and Mifflin was on his feet like a flash. He +had the ruffian by the throat and kicked the weapon out of his hand. +I ran to seize it. + +"You son of Satan!" said the valiant Redbeard. "Thought you could +bully us, did you? Miss McGill, you were as quick as Joan of Arc. +Hand me the pistol, please." + +I gave it to him, and he shoved it under the hobo's nose. + +"Now," he said, "take off that rag around your neck." + +The rag was an old red handkerchief, inconceivably soiled. The tramp +removed it, grumbling and whining. Mifflin gave me the pistol to +hold while he tied our prisoner's wrists together. In the meantime +we heard a shout from the quarry. The three vagabonds were gazing up +in great excitement. + +"You tell those fashion plates down there," said Mifflin, as he +knotted the tramp's hands together, "that if they make any fight +I'll shoot them like crows." His voice was cold and savage and he +seemed quite master of the situation, but I must confess I wondered +how we could handle four of them. + +The greasy ruffian shouted down to his pals in the quarry, but I did +not hear what he said, as just then the Professor asked me to keep +our captive covered while he got a stick. I stood with the pistol +pointed at his head while Mifflin ran back into the birchwood to cut +a cudgel. + +The tramp's face became the colour of the under side of a fried egg +as he looked into the muzzle of his own gun. + +"Say, lady," he pleaded, "that gun goes off awful easy, point her +somewhere else or you'll croak me by mistake." + +I thought a good scare wouldn't do him any harm and kept the barrel +steadily on him. + +The rascals down below seemed debating what to do. I don't know +whether they were armed or not; but probably they imagined that +there were more than two of us. At all events, by the time Mifflin +came back with a stout birch staff they were hustling out of the +quarry on the lower side. The Professor swore, and looked as if he +would gladly give chase, but he refrained. + +"Here, you," he said in crisp tones to the tramp, "march on ahead of +us, down to the quarry." + +The fat ruffian shambled awkwardly down the trail. We had to make +quite a detour to get into the quarry, and by the time we reached +there the other three tramps had got clean away. I was not sorry, to +tell the truth. I thought the Professor had had enough scrapping for +one twenty-four hours. + +Peg whinneyed loudly as she saw us coming, but Bock was not in sight. + +"What have you done with the dog, you swine?" said Mifflin. "If +you've hurt him I'll make you pay with your own hide." + +Our prisoner was completely cowed. "No, boss, we ain't hurt the +dog," he fawned. "We tied him up so he couldn't bark, that's all. +He's in the 'bus." And sure enough, by this time we could hear +smothered yelping and whining from Parnassus. + +I hurried to open the door, and there was Bock, his jaws tied +together with a rope-end. He bounded out and made super-canine +efforts to express his joy at seeing the Professor again. He paid +very little attention to me. + +"Well," said Mifflin, after freeing the dog's muzzle, and with +difficulty restraining him from burying his teeth in the tramp's +shin, "what shall we do with this heroic specimen of manhood? Shall +we cart him over to the jail in Port Vigor, or shall we let him go?" + +The tramp burst into a whining appeal that was almost funny, it was +so abject. The Professor cut it short. + +"I ought to pack you into quod," he said. "Are you the Phoebus +Apollo I scuffled with down the lane last night? Was it you skulking +around this wagon then?" + +"No, boss, that was Splitlip Sam, honest to Gawd it was. He come +back, boss; said he'd been fightin' with a cat-o'-mountain! Say, +boss, you sure hit him hard. One of his lamps is a pudding! Boss, +I'll swear I ain't had nothin' to do with it." + +"I don't like your society," said the Professor, "and I'm going to +turn you loose. I'm going to count ten, and if you're not out of +this quarry by then, I'll shoot. And if I see you again I'll skin +you alive. Now get out!" + +He cut the knotted handkerchief in two. The hobo needed no urging. +He spun on his heel and fled like a rabbit. The Professor watched +him go, and as the fat, ungainly figure burst through a hedge and +disappeared he fired the revolver into the air to frighten him still +more. Then he tossed the weapon into the pool near by. + +"Well, Miss McGill," he said with a chuckle, "if you like to +undertake breakfast, I'll fix up Peg." And he drew the horse-shoe +from his pocket once more. + +A brief inspection of Parnassus satisfied me that the thieves had +not had time to do any real damage. They had got out most of the +eatables and spread them on a flat rock in preparation for a feast; +and they had tracked a good deal of mud into the van; but otherwise +I could see nothing amiss. So while Mifflin busied himself with +Peg's foot it was easy for me to get a meal under way. I found a +gush of clean water trickling down the face of the rock. There were +still some eggs and bread and cheese in the little cupboard, and an +unopened tin of condensed milk. I gave Peg her nose bag of oats, and +fed Bock, who was frisking about in high spirits. By that time the +shoeing was done, and the Professor and I sat down to an improvised +meal. I was beginning to feel as if this gipsy existence were the +normal course of my life. + +"Well, Professor," I said, as I handed him a cup of coffee and a +plate of scrambled eggs and cheese, "for a man who slept in a wet +haystack, you acquit yourself with excellent valour." + +"Old Parnassus is quite a stormy petrel," he said. "I used to think +the chief difficulty in writing a book would be to invent things to +happen, but if I were to sit down and write the adventures I'd had +with her it would be a regular Odyssey." + +"How about Peg's foot?" I asked. "Can she travel on it?" + +"It'll be all right if you go easy. I've scraped out the injured +part and put the shoe back. I keep a little kit of tools under the +van for emergencies of all sorts." + +It was chilly, and we didn't dawdle over our meal. I only made a +feint of eating, as I had had a little breakfast before, and also +as the events of the last few hours had left me rather restless. I +wanted to get Parnassus out on the highway again, to jog along in +the sun and think things over. The quarry was a desolate, forbidding +place anyway. But before we left we explored the cave where the +tramps had been preparing to make themselves comfortable for the +winter. It was not really a cave, but only a shaft into the granite +cliff. A screen of evergreen boughs protected the opening against +the weather, and inside were piles of sacking that had evidently +been used as beds, and many old grocery boxes for tables and chairs. +It amused me to notice a cracked fragment of mirror balanced on a +corner of rock. Even these ragamuffins apparently were not totally +unconscious of personal appearance. I seized the opportunity, while +the Professor was giving Peg's foot a final look, to rearrange my +hair, which was emphatically a sight. I hardly think Andrew would +have recognized me that morning. + +We led Peg up the steep incline, back into the lane where I had +strayed, and at length we reached the main road again. Here I began +to lay down the law to Redbeard. + +"Now look here, Professor," I said, "I'm not going to have you tramp +all the way back to Port Vigor. After the night you've had you need +a rest. You just climb into that Parnassus and lie down for a good +snooze. I'll drive you into Woodbridge and you can take your train +there. Now you get right into that bunk. I'll sit out here and drive." + +He demurred, but without much emphasis. I think the little fool was +just about fagged out, and no wonder. I was a trifle groggy myself. +In the end he was quite docile. He climbed into the van, took off +his boots, and lay down under a blanket. Bock followed him, and I +think they both fell asleep on the instant. I got on the front seat +and took the reins. I didn't let Peg go more quickly than a walk as +I wanted to spare her sore foot. + +My, what a morning that was after the rain! The road ran pretty +close to the shore, and every now and then I could catch a glimpse +of the water. The air was keen--not just the ordinary, unnoticed air +that we breathe in and out and don't think about, but a sharp and +tingling essence, as strong in the nostrils as camphor or ammonia. +The sun seemed focussed upon Parnassus, and we moved along the white +road in a flush of golden light. The flat fronds of the cedars +swayed gently in the salty air, and for the first time in ten +years, I should think, I began amusing myself by selecting words to +describe the goodness of the morning. I even imagined myself writing +a description of it, as if I were Andrew or Thoreau. The crazy +little Professor had inoculated me with his literary bug, I guess. + +And then I did a dishonourable thing. Just by chance I put my hand +into the little pocket beside the seat where Mifflin kept a few odds +and ends. I meant to have another look at that card of his with the +poem on it. And there I found a funny, battered little notebook, +evidently forgotten. On the cover was written, in ink, "Thoughts +on the Present Discontents." That title seemed vaguely familiar. I +seemed to recall something of the kind from my school days--more +than twenty years ago, goodness me! Of course if I had been +honourable I wouldn't have looked into it. But in a kind of +quibbling self-justification I recalled that I had bought Parnassus +and all it contained, "lock, stock, barrel and bung" as Andrew used +to say. And so.... + +The notebook was full of little jottings, written in pencil in +the Professor's small, precise hand. The words were rubbed +and soiled, but plainly legible. I read this: + + +I don't suppose Bock or Peg get lonely, but by the bones of Ben +Gunn, I do. Seems silly when Herrick and Hans Andersen and Tennyson +and Thoreau and a whole wagonload of other good fellows are riding +at my back. I can hear them all talking as we trundle along. But +books aren't a _substantial_ world after all, and every now and then +we get hungry for some closer, more human relationships. I've been +totally alone now for eight years--except for Runt, and he might be +dead and never say so. This wandering about is fine in its way, but +it must come to an end some day. A man needs to put down a root +somewhere to be really happy. + +What absurd victims of contrary desires we are! If a man is settled +in one place he yearns to wander; when he wanders he yearns to have +a home. And yet how bestial is content--all the great things in life +are done by discontented people. + +There are three ingredients in the good life: learning, earning, +and yearning. A man should be learning as he goes; and he should +be earning bread for himself and others; and he should be yearning, +too: yearning to know the unknowable. + +What a fine old poem is "The Pulley" by George Herbert! Those +Elizabethan fellows knew how to write! They were marred perhaps by +their idea that poems must be "witty." (Remember how Bacon said +that reading poets makes one witty? There he gave a clue to the +literature of his time.) Their fantastic puns and conceits are +rather out of our fashion nowadays. But Lord! the root of the +matter was in them! How gallantly, how reverently, they tackle the +problems of life! + +When God at first made man (says George Herbert) He had a "glass of +blessings standing by." So He pours on man all the blessings in His +reservoir: strength, beauty, wisdom, honour, pleasure--and then He +refrains from giving him the last of them, which is rest, i.e., +contentment. God sees that if man is contented he will never win +his way to Him. Let man be restless, so that + + "If goodness lead him not, yet weariness + May toss him to My breast." + +Some day I shall write a novel on that theme, and call it "The +Pulley." In this tragic, restless world there must be some +place where at last we can lay our heads and be at rest. Some +people call it death. Some call it God. + +My ideal of a man is not the Omar who wants to shatter into bits +this sorry scheme of things, and then remould it nearer to the +heart's desire. Old Omar was a coward, with his silk pajamas and +his glass of wine. The real man is George Herbert's "seasoned +timber"--the fellow who does handily and well whatever comes to him. +Even if it's only shovelling coal into a furnace he can balance the +shovel neatly, swing the coal square on the fire and not spill it on +the floor. If it's only splitting kindling or running a trolley car +he can make a good, artistic job of it. If it's only writing a book +or peeling potatoes he can put into it the best he has. Even if he's +only a bald-headed old fool over forty selling books on a country +road, he can make an ideal of it. Good old Parnassus! It's a great +game.... I think I'll have to give her up soon, though: I must get +that book of mine written. But Parnassus has been a true glass of +blessings to me. + + +There was much more in the notebook; indeed it was half full of +jotted paragraphs, memoranda, and scraps of writing--poems I believe +some of them were--but I had seen enough. It seemed as if I had +stumbled unawares on the pathetic, brave, and lonely heart of the +little man. I'm a commonplace creature, I'm afraid, insensible to +many of the deeper things in life, but every now and then, like all +of us, I come face to face with something that thrills me. I saw how +this little, red-bearded pedlar was like a cake of yeast in the big, +heavy dough of humanity: how he travelled about trying to fulfil in +his own way his ideals of beauty. I felt almost motherly toward him: +I wanted to tell him that I understood him. And in a way I felt +ashamed of having run away from my own homely tasks, my kitchen and +my hen yard and dear old, hot-tempered, absent-minded Andrew. I +fell into a sober mood. As soon as I was alone, I thought, I would +sell Parnassus and hurry back to the farm. That was my job, that +was my glass of blessings. What was I doing--a fat, middle-aged +woman--trapesing along the roads with a cartload of books I didn't +understand? + +I slipped the little notebook back into its hiding-place. I would +have died rather than let the Professor know I had seen it. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + + +We were coming into Woodbridge; and I was just wondering whether to +wake the Professor when the little window behind me slid back and he +stuck his head out. + +"Hello!" he said. "I think I must have been asleep!" + +"Well, I should hope so," I said. "You needed it." + +Indeed he looked much better, and I was relieved to see it. I had +been really afraid he would be ill after sleeping out all night, but +I guess he was tougher than I thought. He joined me on the seat, and +we drove into the town. While he went to the station to ask about +the trains I had a fine time selling books. I was away from the +locality where I was known, and had no shyness in attempting to +imitate Mifflin's methods. I even went him one better by going into +a hardware store where I bought a large dinner bell. This I rang +lustily until a crowd gathered, then I put up the flaps and +displayed my books. As a matter of fact, I sold only one, but I +enjoyed myself none the less. + +By and by Mifflin reappeared. I think he had been to a barber: at +any rate he looked very spry: he had bought a clean collar and a +flowing tie of a bright electric blue which really suited him rather +well. + +"Well," he said, "the Sage is going to get back at me for that +punch on the nose! I've been to the bank to cash your check. They +telephoned over to Redfield, and apparently your brother has stopped +payment on it. It's rather awkward: they seem to think I'm a crook." + +I was furious. What right had Andrew to do that? + +"The brute!" I said. "What on earth shall I do?" + +"I suggest that you telephone to the Redfield Bank," he said, "and +countermand your brother's instructions--that is, unless you think +you've made a mistake? I don't want to take advantage of you." + +"Nonsense!" I said. "I'm not going to let Andrew spoil my holiday. +That's always his way: if he gets an idea into his head he's like a +mule. I'll telephone to Redfield, and then we'll go to see the bank +here." + +We put Parnassus up at the hotel, and I went to the telephone. I was +thoroughly angry at Andrew, and tried to get him on the wire first. +But Sabine Farm didn't answer. Then I telephoned to the bank in +Redfield, and got Mr. Shirley. He's the cashier, and I know him +well. I guess he recognized my voice, for he made no objection when +I told him what I wanted. + +"Now you telephone to the bank in Woodbridge," I said, "and tell +them to let Mr. Mifflin have the money. I'll go there with him to +identify him. Will that be all right?" + +"Perfectly," he said. The deceitful little snail! If I had only +known what he was concocting! + +Mifflin said there was a train at three o'clock which he could take. +We stopped at a little lunch room for a bite to eat, then he went +again to the bank, and I with him. We asked the cashier whether they +had had a message from Redfield. + +"Yes," he said. "We've just heard." And he looked at me rather +queerly. + +"Are you Miss McGill?" he said. + +"I am," I said. + +"Will you just step this way a moment?" he asked politely. + +He led me into a little sitting-room and asked me to sit down. I +supposed that he was going to get some paper for me to sign, so I +waited quite patiently for several minutes. I had left the Professor +at the cashier's window, where they would give him his money. + +I waited some time, and finally I got tired of looking at the Life +Insurance calendars. Then I happened to glance out of the window. +Surely that was the Professor, just disappearing round the corner +with another man? + +I returned to the cashier's desk. + +"What's the matter?" I said. "Your mahogany furniture is charming, +but I'm tired of it. Do I have to sit here any longer? And where's +Mr. Mifflin? Did he get his money?" + +The cashier was a horrid little creature with side whiskers. + +"I'm sorry you had to wait, Madam," he said. "The transaction is +just concluded. We gave Mr. Mifflin what was due him. There is no +need for you to stay longer." + +I thought this was very extraordinary. Surely the Professor would +not leave without saying good-bye? However, I noticed that the clock +said three minutes to three, so I thought that perhaps he had had to +run to catch his train. He was such a strange little man, anyway.... + +Well, I went back to the hotel, quite a little upset by this sudden +parting. At least I was glad the little man had got his money all +right. Probably he would write from Brooklyn, but of course I +wouldn't get the letter till I returned to the farm as that was the +only address he would have. Perhaps that wouldn't be so long after +all: but I did not feel like going back now, when Andrew had been +so horrid. + +I drove Parnassus on the ferry, and we crossed the river. I felt +lost and disagreeable. Even the fresh movement through the air +gave me no pleasure. Bock whined dismally inside the van. + +It didn't take me long to discover that Parnassing all alone had +lost some of its charms. I missed the Professor: missed his abrupt, +direct way of saying things, and his whimsical wit. And I was +annoyed by his skipping off without a word of good-bye. It didn't +seem natural. I partially appeased my irritation by stopping at a +farmhouse on the other side of the river and selling a cook book. +Then I started along the road for Bath--about five miles farther on. +Peg's foot didn't seem to bother her so I thought it would be safe +to travel that far before stopping for the night. Counting up the +days (with some difficulty: it seemed as though I had been away from +home a month), I remembered that this was Saturday night. I thought +I would stay in Bath over Sunday and get a good rest. We jogged +sedately along the road, and I got out a copy of "Vanity Fair." I +was so absorbed in Becky Sharp that I wouldn't even interrupt myself +to sell books at the houses we passed. I think reading a good book +makes one modest. When you see the marvellous insight into human +nature which a truly great book shows, it is bound to make you feel +small--like looking at the Dipper on a clear night, or seeing the +winter sunrise when you go out to collect the morning eggs. And +anything that makes you feel small is mighty good for you. + +"What do you mean by a great book?" said the Professor--I mean, +I imagined him saying it. It seemed to me as if I could see him +sitting there, with his corncob pipe in his hand and that quizzical +little face of his looking sharply at me. Somehow, talking with +the Professor had made me think. He was as good as one of those +Scranton correspondence courses, I do believe, and no money to pay +for postage. + +Well, I said to the Professor--to myself I mean--let's see: what +_is_ a good book? I don't mean books like Henry James's (he's +Andrew's great idol. It always seemed to me that he had a kind +of rush of words to the head and never stopped to sort them out +properly). A good book ought to have something simple about it. And, +like Eve, it ought to come from somewhere near the third rib: there +ought to be a heart beating in it. A story that's all forehead +doesn't amount to much. Anyway, it'll never get over at a Dorcas +meeting. That was the trouble with Henry James. Andrew talked so +much about him that I took one of his books to read aloud at our +sewing circle over at Redfield. Well, after one try we had to fall +back on "Pollyanna." + +I haven't been doing chores and running a farmhouse for fifteen +years without getting some ideas about life--and even about books. +I wouldn't set my lit'ry views up against yours, Professor (I was +still talking to Mifflin in my mind), no, nor even against +Andrew's--but as I say, I've got some ideas of my own. I've learned +that honest work counts in writing books just as much as it does in +washing dishes. I guess Andrew's books must be some good after all +because he surely does mull over them without end. I can forgive +his being a shiftless farmer so long as he really does his literary +chores up to the hilt. A man can be slack in everything else, if +he does one thing as well as he possibly can. And I guess it won't +matter my being an ignoramus in literature so long as I'm rated A-1 +in the kitchen. That's what I used to think as I polished and +scoured and scrubbed and dusted and swept and then set about getting +dinner. If I ever sat down to read for ten minutes the cat would +get into the custard. No woman in the country sits down for fifteen +consecutive minutes between sunrise and sunset, anyway, unless +she has half a dozen servants. And nobody knows anything about +literature unless he spends most of his life sitting down. So +there you are. + +The cultivation of philosophic reflection was a new experience for +me. Peg ambled along contentedly and the dog trailed under Parnassus +where I had tied him. I read "Vanity Fair" and thought about all +sorts of things. Once I got out to pick some scarlet maple leaves +that attracted me. The motors passing annoyed me with their dust +and noise, but by and by one of them stopped, looked at my outfit +curiously, and then asked to see some books. I put up the flaps for +them and we pulled off to one side of the road and had a good talk. +They bought two or three books, too. + +By the time I neared Bath the hands of my watch pointed to supper. +I was still a bit shy of Mifflin's scheme of stopping overnight at +farmhouses, so I thought I'd go right into the town and look for a +hotel. The next day was Sunday, so it seemed reasonable to give the +horse a good rest and stay in Bath two nights. The Hominy House +looked clean and old-fashioned, and the name amused me, so in I +went. It was a kind of high-class boarding-house, with mostly old +women around. It looked to me almost literary and Elbert Hubbardish +compared to the Grand Central in Shelby. The folks there stared at +me somewhat suspiciously and I half thought they were going to say +they didn't take pedlars; but when I flashed a new five-dollar bill +at the desk I got good service. A five-dollar bill is a patent of +nobility in New England. + +My! how I enjoyed that creamed chicken on toast, and buckwheat cakes +with syrup! After you get used to cooking all your own grub, a meal +off some one else's stove is the finest kind of treat. After supper +I was all prepared to sit out on the porch with my sweater on and +give a rocking chair a hot box, but then I remembered that it was up +to me to carry on the traditions of Parnassus. I was there to spread +the gospel of good books. I got to thinking how the Professor never +shirked carrying on his campaign, and I determined that I would be +worthy of the cause. + +When I think back about the experience, it seems pretty crazy, but +at the time I was filled with a kind of evangelistic zeal. I thought +if I was going to try to sell books I might as well have some fun +out of it. Most of the old ladies were squatting about in the +parlour, knitting or reading or playing cards. In the smoking-room I +could see two dried-up men. Mrs. Hominy, the manager of the place, +was sitting at her desk behind a brass railing, going over accounts +with a quill pen. I thought that the house probably hadn't had a +shock since Walt Whitman wrote "Leaves of Grass." In a kind of +do-or-die spirit I determined to give them a rouse. + +In the dining-room I had noticed a huge dinner bell that stood +behind the door. I stepped in there, and got it. Standing in the +big hall I began ringing it as hard as I could shake my arm. + +You might have thought it was a fire alarm. Mrs. Hominy dropped her +pen in horror. The colonial dames in the parlour came to life and +ran into the hall like cockroaches. In a minute I had gathered quite +a respectable audience. It was up to me to do the spellbinding. + +"Friends," I said (unconsciously imitating the Professor's tricks +of the trade, I guess), "this bell which generally summons you to +the groaning board now calls you to a literary repast. With the +permission of the management, and with apologies for disturbing your +tranquillity, I will deliver a few remarks on the value of good +books. I see that several of you are fond of reading, so perhaps the +topic will be congenial?" + +They gazed at me about as warmly as a round of walnut sundaes. + +"Ladies and Gentlemen," I continued, "of course you remember the +story of Abe Lincoln when he said, 'if you call a leg a tail, how +many tails has a dog?' 'Five,' you answer. Wrong; because, as Mr. +Lincoln said, calling a leg a tail...." + +I still think it was a good beginning. But that was as far as I got. +Mrs. Hominy came out of her trance, hastened from the cage, and +grabbed my arm. She was quite red with anger. + +"Really!" she said. "Well, really!... I must ask you to continue +this in some other place. We do not allow commercial travellers in +this house." + +And within fifteen minutes they had hitched up Peg and asked me to +move on. Indeed I was so taken aback by my own zeal that I could +hardly protest. In a kind of daze I found myself at the Moose Hotel, +where they assured me that they catered to mercantile people. I went +straight to my room and fell asleep as soon as I reached the straw +mattress. + +That was my first and only public speech. + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + + +The next day was Sunday, October sixth. I well remember the date. + +I woke up as chipper as any Robert W. Chambers heroine. All my +doubts and depressions of the evening before had fled, and I was +single-heartedly delighted with the world and everything in it. The +hotel was a poor place, but it would have taken more than that to +mar my composure. I had a bitterly cold bath in a real country tin +tub, and then eggs and pancakes for breakfast. At the table was +a drummer who sold lightning rods, and several other travelling +salesmen. I'm afraid my conversation was consciously modelled along +the line of what the Professor would have said if he had been there, +but at any rate I got along swimmingly. The travelling men, after a +moment or two of embarrassed diffidence, treated me quite as one of +themselves and asked me about my "line" with interest. I described +what I was doing and they all said they envied me my freedom to come +and go independently of trains. We talked cheerfully for a long +time, and almost without intending to, I started preaching about +books. In the end they insisted on my showing them Parnassus. We +all went out to the stable, where the van was quartered, and they +browsed over the shelves. Before I knew it I had sold five dollars' +worth, although I had decided not to do any business at all on +Sunday. But I couldn't refuse to sell them the stuff as they all +seemed so keen on getting something really good to read. One man +kept on talking about Harold Bell Wright, but I had to admit that +I hadn't heard of him. Evidently the Professor hadn't stocked any +of his works. I was tickled to see that after all little Redbeard +didn't know _everything_ about literature. + +After that I debated whether to go to church or to write letters. +Finally I decided in favour of the letters. First I tackled Andrew. +I wrote: + + +The Moose Hotel, Bath, +Sunday morning. + +DEAR ANDREW: + +It seems absurd to think that it's only three days since I left +Sabine Farm. Honestly, more has happened to me in these three days +than in three years at home. + +I'm sorry that you and Mr. Mifflin disagreed but I quite understood +your feelings. But I'm very angry that you should have tried to +stop that check I gave him. It was none of your business, Andrew. +I telephoned Mr. Shirley and made him send word to the bank in +Woodbridge to give Mifflin the money. Mr. Mifflin did not swindle me +into buying Parnassus. I did it of my own free will. If you want to +know the truth, it was your fault! I bought it because I was scared +_you_ would if I didn't. And I didn't want to be left all alone on +the farm from now till Thanksgiving while you went off on another +trip. So I decided to do the thing myself. I thought I'd see how you +would like being left all alone to run the house. I thought it'd be +pretty nice for me to get things off my mind a while and have an +adventure of my own. + +Now, Andrew, here are some directions for you: + +1. Don't forget to feed the chickens twice a day, and collect _all_ +the eggs. There's a nest behind the wood pile, and some of the +Wyandottes have been laying under the ice house. + +2. Don't let Rosie touch grandmother's blue china, because she'll +break it as sure as fate if she lays her big, thick Swedish fingers +on it. + +3. Don't forget your warmer underwear. The nights are getting +chilly. + +4. I forgot to put the cover on the sewing machine. Please do that +for me or it'll get all dusty. + +5. Don't let the cat run loose in the house at night: he always +breaks something. + +6. Send your socks and anything else that needs darning over to Mrs. +McNally, she can do it for you. + +7. Don't forget to feed the pigs. + +8. Don't forget to mend the weathervane on the barn. + +9. Don't forget to send that barrel of apples over to the cider mill +or you won't have any cider to drink when Mr. Decameron comes up to +see us later in the fall. + +10. Just to make ten commandments, I'll add one more: You might +'phone to Mrs. Collins that the Dorcas will have to meet at some +one else's house next week, because I don't know just when I'll get +back. I may be away a fortnight more. This is my first holiday in a +long time and I'm going to chew it before I swallow it. + +The Professor (Mr. Mifflin, I mean) has gone back to Brooklyn to +work on his book. I'm sorry you and he had to mix it up on the high +road like a couple of hooligans. He's a nice little man and you'd +like him if you got to know him. + +I'm spending Sunday in Bath: to-morrow I'm going on toward Hastings. +I've sold five dollars' worth of books this morning even if it is +Sunday. + +Your affte sister +HELEN McGiLL. + +P.S. Don't forget to clean the separator after using it, or it'll +get in a fearful state. + + +After writing to Andrew I thought I would send a message to the +Professor. I had already written him a long letter in my mind, but +somehow when I began putting it on paper a sort of awkwardness came +over me. I didn't know just how to begin. I thought how much more +fun it would be if he were there himself and I could listen to him +talk. And then, while I was writing the first few sentences, some +of the drummers came back into the room. + +"Thought you'd like to see a Sunday paper," said one of them. + +I picked up the newspaper with a word of thanks and ran an eye over +the headlines. The ugly black letters stood up before me, and my +heart gave a great contraction. I felt my fingertips turn cold. + + DISASTROUS WRECK + ON THE SHORE LINE + EXPRESS RUNS INTO OPEN SWITCH + -- + TEN LIVES LOST, AND + MORE THAN A SCORE INJURED + -- + FAILURE OF BLOCK SIGNALS + +The letters seemed to stand up before me as large as a Malted Milk +signboard. With a shuddering apprehension I read the details. +Apparently the express that left Providence at four o'clock on +Saturday afternoon had crashed into an open siding near Willdon +about six o'clock, and collided with a string of freight empties. +The baggage car had been demolished and the smoker had turned over +and gone down an embankment. There were ten men killed... my head +swam. Was that the train the Professor had taken? Let me see. He +left Woodbridge on a local train at three. He had said the day +before that the express left Port Vigor at five.... If he had +changed to the express..... + +In a kind of fascinated horror my eye caught the list of the dead. +I ran down the names. Thank God, no, Mifflin was not among them. +Then I saw the last entry: + +UNIDENTIFIED MAN, MIDDLE-AGED. + +What if that should be the Professor? + +And I suddenly felt dizzy, and for the first time in my life I +fainted. + +Thank goodness, no one else was in the room. The drummers had gone +outside again, and no one heard me flop off the chair. I came to in +a moment, my heart whirling like a spinning top. At first I did not +realize what was wrong. Then my eye fell on the newspaper again. +Feverishly I re-read the account, and the names of the injured, too, +which I had missed before. Nowhere was there a name I knew. But the +tragic words "unidentified man" danced before my eyes. Oh! if it +were the Professor.... + +In a wave the truth burst upon me. I loved that little man: I loved +him, I loved him. He had brought something new into my life, and his +brave, quaint ways had warmed my fat old heart. For the first time, +in an intolerable gush of pain, I seemed to know that my life could +never again be endurable without him. And now--what was I to do? + +How could I learn the truth? Certainly if he _had_ been on the +train, and had escaped from the wreck unhurt, he would have sent +a message to Sabine Farm to let me know. At any rate, that was a +possibility. I rushed to the telephone to call up Andrew. + +Oh! the agonizing slowness of telephone connections when urgent +hurry is needed! My voice shook as I said "Redfield 158 J" to the +operator. Throbbing with nervousness I waited to hear the familiar +click of the receiver at the other end. I could hear the Redfield +switchboard receive the call, and put in the plug to connect with +our wire. In imagination I could see the telephone against the wall +in the old hallway at Sabine Farm. I could see the soiled patch of +plaster where Andrew rests his elbow when he talks into the 'phone, +and the place where he jots numbers down in pencil and I rub +them off with bread crumbs. I could see Andrew coming out of +the sitting-room to answer the bell. And then the operator said +carelessly, "Doesn't answer." My forehead was wet as I came out +of the booth. + +I hope I may never have to re-live the horrors of the next hour. +In spite of my bluff and hearty ways, in times of trouble I am as +reticent as a clam. I was determined to hide my agony and anxiety +from the well-meaning people of the Moose Hotel. I hurried to the +railway station to send a telegram to the Professor's address in +Brooklyn, but found the place closed. A boy told me it would not be +open until the afternoon. From a drugstore I called "information" in +Willdon, and finally got connected with some undertaker to whom the +Willdon operator referred me. A horrible, condoling voice (have you +ever talked to an undertaker over the telephone?) answered me that +no one by the name of Mifflin had been among the dead, but admitted +that there was one body still unidentified. He used one ghastly word +that made me shudder--unrecognizable. I rang off. + +I knew then for the first time the horror of loneliness. I thought +of the poor little man's notebook that I had seen. I thought of his +fearless and lovable ways--of his pathetic little tweed cap, of the +missing button of his jacket, of the bungling darns on his frayed +sleeve. It seemed to me that heaven could mean nothing more than to +roll creaking along country roads, in Parnassus, with the Professor +beside me on the seat. What if I had known him only--how long was +it? He had brought the splendour of an ideal into my humdrum life. +And now--had I lost it forever? Andrew and the farm seemed faint and +far away. I was a homely old woman, mortally lonely and helpless. +In my perplexity I walked to the outskirts of the village and burst +into tears. + +Finally I got a grip on myself again. I am not ashamed to say that +I now admitted frankly what I had been hiding from myself. I was in +love--in love with a little, red-bearded bookseller who seemed to me +more splendid than Sir Galahad. And I vowed that if he would have +me, I would follow him to the other end of nowhere. + +I walked back to the hotel. I thought I would make one more try to +get Andrew on the telephone. My whole soul quivered when at last I +heard the receiver click. + +"Hello?" said Andrew's voice. + +"Oh, Andrew," I said, "this is Helen." + +"Where are you?" (His voice sounded cross.) + +"Andrew, is there any--any message from Mr. Mifflin? That wreck +yesterday--he might have been on that train--I've been so +frightened; do you think he was--hurt?" + +"Stuff and nonsense," said Andrew. "If you want to know about +Mifflin, he's in jail in Port Vigor." + +And then I think Andrew must have been surprised. I began to laugh +and cry simultaneously, and in my agitation I set down the receiver. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + + +My first impulse was to hide myself in some obscure corner where I +could vent my feelings without fear or favour. I composed my face +as well as I could before leaving the 'phone booth; then I sidled +across the lobby and slipped out of the side door. I found my way +into the stable, where good old Peg was munching in her stall. The +fine, homely smell of horseflesh and long-worn harness leather went +right to my heart, and while Bock frisked at my knees I laid my head +on Peg's neck and cried. I think that fat old mare understood me. +She was as tubby and prosaic and middle-aged as I--but she loved the +Professor. + +Suddenly Andrew's words echoed again in my mind. I had barely +heeded them before, in the great joy of my relief, but now their +significance came to me. "In jail." The Professor in jail! That was +the meaning of his strange disappearance at Woodbridge. That little +brute of a man Shirley must have telephoned from Redfield, and when +the Professor came to the Woodbridge bank to cash that check they +had arrested him. That was why they had shoved me into that mahogany +sitting-room. Andrew must be behind this. The besotted old fool! My +face burned with anger and humiliation. + +I never knew before what it means to be really infuriated. I could +feel my brain tingle. The Professor in jail! The gallant, chivalrous +little man, penned up with hoboes and sneak thieves suspected of +being a crook... as if I couldn't take care of myself! What did they +think he was, anyway? A kidnapper? + +Instantly I decided I would hurry back to Port Vigor without delay. +If Andrew had had the Professor locked up, it could only be on the +charge of defrauding me. Certainly it couldn't be for giving him a +bloody nose on the road from Shelby. And if I appeared to deny the +charge, surely they would have to let Mr. Mifflin go. + +I believe I must have been talking to myself in Peg's stall--at +any rate, just at this moment the stableman appeared and looked +very bewildered when he saw me, with flushed face and in obvious +excitement, talking to the horse. I asked him when was the next +train to Port Vigor. + +"Well, ma'am," he said, "they say that all the local trains is held +up till the wreck at Willdon's cleared away. This being Sunday, I +don't think you'll get anything from here until to-morrow morning." + +I reflected. It wasn't so awfully far back to Port Vigor. A flivver +from the local garage could spin me back there in a couple of +hours at the most. But somehow it seemed more fitting to go to the +Professor's rescue in his own Parnassus, even if it would take +longer to get there. To tell the truth, while I was angry and +humiliated at the thought of his being put in jail by Andrew, I +couldn't help, deep down within me, being rather thankful. Suppose +he had been in the wreck? The Sage of Redfield had played the part +of Providence after all. And if I set out right away with Parnassus, +I could get to Port Vigor--well, by Monday morning anyway. + +The good people of the Moose Hotel were genuinely surprised at +the hurry with which I dispatched my lunch. But I gave them no +explanations. Goodness knows, my head was full of other thoughts and +the apple sauce might have been asbestos. You know, a woman only +falls in love once in her life, and if it waits until she's darn +near forty--well, it _takes!_ You see I hadn't even been vaccinated +against it by girlish flirtations. I began to be a governess when +I was just a kid, and a governess doesn't get many chances to be +skittish. So now when it came, it hit me hard. That's when a woman +finds herself--when she's in love. I don't care if she _is_ old or +fat or homely or prosy. She feels that little flutter under her ribs +and she drops from the tree like a ripe plum. I didn't care if Roger +Mifflin and I were as odd a couple as old Dr. Johnson and his wife, +I only knew one thing: that when I saw that little red devil again I +was going to be all his--if he'd have me. That's why the old Moose +Hotel in Bath is always sacred to me. That's where I learned that +life still held something fresh for me--something better than baking +champlain biscuits for Andrew. + + * * * * * * * * * + +That Sunday was one of those mellow, golden days that we New +Englanders get in October. The year really begins in March, as +every farmer knows, and by the end of September or the beginning of +October the season has come to its perfect, ripened climax. There +are a few days when the world seems to hang still in a dreaming, +sweet hush, at the very fulness of the fruit before the decline +sets in. I have no words (like Andrew) to describe it, but every +autumn for years I have noticed it. I remember that sometimes at +the farm I used to lean over the wood pile for a moment just before +supper to watch those purple October sunsets. I would hear the sharp +ting of Andrew's little typewriter bell as he was working in his +study. And then I would try to swallow down within me the beauty +and wistfulness of it all, and run back to mash the potatoes. + +Peg drew Parnassus along the backward road with a merry little +rumble. I think she knew we were going back to the Professor. +Bock careered mightily along the wayside. And I had much time for +thinking. On the whole, I was glad; for I had much to ponder. An +adventure that had started as a mere lark or whim had now become for +me the very gist of life itself. I was fanciful, I guess, and as +romantic as a young hen, but by the bones of George Eliot, I'm sorry +for the woman that never has a chance to be fanciful. Mifflin was +in jail; aye, but he might have been dead and--unrecognizable! My +heart refused to be altogether sad. I was on my way to deliver him +from durance vile. There seemed a kinship between the season and +myself, I mused, seeing the goldenrod turning bronze and droopy +along the way. Here was I, in the full fruition of womanhood, on the +verge of my decline into autumn, and lo! by the grace of God, I had +found my man, my master. He had touched me with his own fire and +courage. I didn't care what happened to Andrew, or to Sabine Farm, +or to anything else in the world. Here were my hearth and my +home--Parnassus, or wherever Roger should pitch his tent. I dreamed +of crossing the Brooklyn Bridge with him at dusk, watching the +skyscrapers etched against a burning sky. I believed in calling +things by their true names. Ink is ink, even if the bottle is marked +"commercial fluid." I didn't try to blink the fact that I was in +love. In fact, I gloried in it. As Parnassus rolled along the road, +and the scarlet maple leaves eddied gently down in the blue October +air, I made up a kind of chant which I called + + Hymn for a Middle-Aged Woman (Fat) + Who Has Fallen into Love + + O God, I thank Thee who sent this great adventure my way! + I am grateful to have come out of the barren land of + spinsterhood, seeing the glory of a love greater than myself. + I thank Thee for teaching me that mixing, and kneading, and + baking are not all that life holds for me. Even if he doesn't + love me, God, I shall always be his. + +I was crooning some such babble as this to myself when, near +Woodbridge, I came upon a big, shiny motor car stranded by the +roadside. Several people, evidently intelligent and well-to-do, +sat under a tree while their chauffeur fussed with a tire. I was +so absorbed in my own thoughts that I think I should have gone +by without paying them much heed, but suddenly I remembered the +Professor's creed--to preach the gospel of books in and out of +season. Sunday or no Sunday, I thought I could best honour Mifflin +by acting on his own principle. I pulled up by the side of the road. + +I noticed the people turn to one another in a kind of surprise, and +whisper something. There was an elderly man with a lean, hard-worked +face; a stout woman, evidently his wife; and two young girls and a +man in golfing clothes. Somehow the face of the older man seemed +familiar. I wondered whether he were some literary friend of +Andrew's whose photo I had seen. + +Bock stood by the wheel with his long, curly tongue running in and +out over his teeth. I hesitated a moment, thinking just how to +phrase my attack, when the elderly gentleman called out: + +"Where's the Professor?" + +I was beginning to realize that Mifflin was indeed a public character. + +"Heavens!" I said. "Do you know him, too?" + +"Well, I should think so," he said. "Didn't he come to see me last +spring about an appropriation for school libraries, and wouldn't +leave till I'd promised to do what he wanted! He stayed the night +with us and we talked literature till four o'clock in the morning. +Where is he now? Have you taken over Parnassus?" + +"Just at present," I said, "Mr. Mifflin is in the jail at Port Vigor." + +The ladies gave little cries of astonishment, and the gentleman +himself (I had sized him up as a school commissioner or something +of that sort) seemed not less surprised. + +"In jail!" he said. "What on earth for? Has he sandbagged somebody +for reading Nick Carter and Bertha M. Clay? That's about the only +crime he'd be likely to commit." + +"He's supposed to have cozened me out of four hundred dollars," I +said, "and my brother has had him locked up. But as a matter of fact +he wouldn't swindle a hen out of a new-laid egg. I bought Parnassus +of my own free will. I'm on my way to Port Vigor now to get him out. +Then I'm going to ask him to marry me--if he will. It's not leap +year, either." + +He looked at me, his thin, lined face working with friendliness. He +was a fine-looking man--short, gray hair brushed away from a broad, +brown forehead. I noticed his rich, dark suit and the spotless +collar. This was a man of breeding, evidently. + +"Well, Madam," he said, "any friend of the Professor is a friend of +ours." (His wife and the girls chimed in with assent.) "If you would +like a lift in our car to speed you on your errand, I'm sure Bob +here would be glad to drive Parnassus into Port Vigor. Our tire will +soon be mended." + +The young man assented heartily, but as I said before, I was bent +on taking Parnassus back myself. I thought the sight of his own +tabernacle would be the best balm for Mifflin's annoying experience. +So I refused the offer, and explained the situation a little more +fully. + +"Well," he said, "then let me help in any way I can." He took a +card from his pocket-book and scribbled something on it. "When you +get to Port Vigor," he said, "show this at the jail and I don't +think you'll have any trouble. I happen to know the people there." + +So after a hand-shake all round I went on again, much cheered by +this friendly little incident. It wasn't till I was some way along +the road that I thought of looking at the card he had given me. Then +I realized why the man's face had been familiar. The card read quite +simply: + +RALEIGH STONE STAFFORD + +The Executive Mansion, +Darlington. + +It was the Governor of the State! + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + + +I couldn't help chuckling, as Parnassus came over the brow of the +hill, and I saw the river in the distance once more. How different +all this was from my girlhood visions of romance. That has been +characteristic of my life all along--it has been full of homely, +workaday happenings, and often rather comic in spite of my best +resolves to be highbrow and serious. All the same I was something +near to tears as I thought of the tragic wreck at Willdon and the +grief-laden hearts that must be mourning. I wondered whether the +Governor was now returning from Willdon after ordering an inquiry. + +On his card he had written: "Please release R. Mifflin at once +and show this lady all courtesies." So I didn't anticipate any +particular trouble. This made me all the more anxious to push on, +and after crossing the ferry we halted in Woodbridge only long +enough for supper. I drove past the bank where I had waited in the +anteroom, and would have been glad of a chance to horsewhip that +sneaking little cashier. I wondered how they had transported the +Professor to Port Vigor, and thought ironically that it was only +that Saturday morning when he had suggested taking the hoboes to +the same jail. Still I do not doubt that his philosophic spirit +had made the best of it all. + +Woodbridge was as dead as any country town is on Sunday night. +At the little hotel where I had supper there was no topic of +conversation except the wreck. But the proprietor, when I paid +my bill, happened to notice Parnassus in the yard. + +"That's the bus that pedlar sold you, ain't it?" he asked with +a leer. + +"Yes," I said, shortly. + +"Goin' back to prosecute him, I guess?" he suggested. "Say, that +feller's a devil, believe _me_. When the sheriff tried to put the +cuffs on him he gave him a black eye and pretty near broke his +jaw. Some scrapper fer a midget!" + +My own brave little fighter, I thought, and flushed with pride. + +The road back to Port Vigor seemed endless. I was a little nervous, +remembering the tramps in Pratt's quarry, but with Bock sitting +beside me on the seat I thought it craven to be alarmed. We rumbled +gently through the darkness, between aisles of inky pines where the +strip of starlight ran like a ribbon overhead, then on the rolling +dunes that overlook the water. There was a moon, too, but I was +mortally tired and lonely and longed only to see my little Redbeard. +Peg was weary, too, and plodded slowly. It must have been midnight +before we saw the red and green lights of the railway signals and I +knew that Port Vigor was at hand. + +I decided to camp where I was. I guided Peg into a field beside the +road, hitched her to a fence, and took the dog into the van with me. +I was too tired to undress. I fell into the bunk and drew the +blankets over me. As I did so, something dropped down behind the +bunk with a sharp rap. It was a forgotten corncob pipe of the +Professor's, blackened and sooty. I put it under my pillow, and +fell asleep. + +Monday, October seventh. If this were a novel about some charming, +slender, pansy-eyed girl, how differently I would have to describe +the feelings with which I woke the next morning. But these being +only a few pages from the life of a fat, New England housewife, I +must be candid. I woke feeling dull and sour. The day was gray and +cool: faint shreds of mist sifting up from the Sound and a desolate +mewing of seagulls in the air. I was unhappy, upset, and--yes--shy. +Passionately I yearned to run to the Professor, to gather him into +my arms, to be alone with him in Parnassus, creaking up some sunny +by-road. But his words came back to me: I was nothing to him. What +if he didn't love me after all? + +I walked across two fields, down to the beach where little waves +were slapping against the shingle. I washed my face and hands in +salt water. Then I went back to Parnassus and brewed some coffee +with condensed milk. I gave Peg and Bock their breakfasts. Then I +hitched Peg to the van again, and felt better. As I drove into the +town I had to wait at the grade crossing while a wrecking train +rumbled past, on its way back from Willdon. That meant that the +line was clear again. I watched the grimy men on the cars, and +shuddered to think what they had been doing. + +The Vigor county jail lies about a mile out of the town, an ugly, +gray stone barracks with a high, spiked wall about it. I was +thankful that it was still fairly early in the morning, and I drove +through the streets without seeing any one I knew. Finally I reached +the gate in the prison wall. Here some kind of a keeper barred my +way. "Can't get in, lady," he said. "Yesterday was visitors' day. +No more visitors till next month." + +"I _must_ get in," I said. "You've got a man in there on a +false charge." + +"So they all say," he retorted, calmly, and spat halfway across the +road. "You wouldn't believe any of our boarders had a right to be +here if you could hear their friends talk." + +I showed him Governor Stafford's card. He was rather impressed +by this, and retired into a sentry-box in the wall--to telephone, +I suppose. + +Presently he came back. + +"The sheriff says he'll see you, ma'am. But you'll have to leave +this here dynamite caboose behind." He unlocked a little door in the +immense iron gate, and turned me over to another man inside. "Take +this here lady to the sheriff," he said. + +Some of Vigor county's prisoners must have learned to be pretty good +gardeners, for certainly the grounds were in good condition. The +grass was green and trimly mowed; there were conventional beds of +flowers in very ugly shapes; in the distance I saw a gang of men +in striped overalls mending a roadway. The guide led me to an +attractive cottage to one side of the main building. There were two +children playing outside, and I remember thinking that within the +walls of a jail was surely a queer place to bring up youngsters. + +But I had other things to think about. I looked up at that grim, +gray building. Behind one of those little barred windows was the +Professor. I should have been angry at Andrew, but somehow it all +seemed a kind of dream. Then I was taken into the hallway of the +sheriff's cottage and in a minute I was talking to a big, +bull-necked man with a political moustache. + +"You have a prisoner here called Roger Mifflin?" I said. + +"My dear Madam, I don't keep a list of all our inmates in my +head. If you will come to the office we will look up the records." + +I showed him the Governor's card. He took it and kept looking at it +as though he expected to see the message written there change or +fade away. We walked across a strip of lawn to the prison building. +There, in a big bare office, he ran over a card index. + +"Here we are," he said. "Roger Mifflin; age, 41; face, oval; +complexion, florid; hair, red but not much of it; height, 64 +inches; weight, stripped, 120; birthmark...." + +"Never mind," I said. "That's the man. What's he here for?" + +"He's held in default of bail, pending trial. The charge is attempt +to defraud one Helen McGill, spinster, age..." + +"Rubbish!" I said. "I'm Helen McGill, and the man made no attempt to +defraud me." + +"The charge was entered and warrant applied for by your brother, +Andrew McGill, acting on your behalf." + +"I never authorized Andrew to act on my behalf." + +"Then do you withdraw the charge?" + +"By all means," I said. "I've a great mind to enter a counter-charge +against Andrew and have _him_ arrested." + +"This is all very irregular," said the sheriff, "but if the prisoner +is known to the Governor, I suppose there is no alternative. I +cannot annul the warrant without some recognizance. According to +the laws of this State the next of kin must stand surety for the +prisoner's good behaviour after release. There is no next of kin...." + +"Surely there is!" I said. "I am the prisoner's next of kin." + +"What do you mean?" he said. "In what relationship do you +stand to this Roger Mifflin?" + +"I intend to marry him just as soon as I can get him away from here." + +He burst into a roar of laughter. "I guess there's no stopping you," +he said. He pinned the Governor's card to a blue paper on the desk, +and began filling in some blanks. + +"Well, Miss McGill," he went on, "don't take away more than one of +my prisoners or I'll lose my job. The turnkey will take you up to +the cell. I'm exceedingly sorry: you can see that the mistake was +none of our fault. Tell the Governor that, will you, when you see +him?" + +I followed the attendant up two flights of bare, stone stairs, and +down a long, whitewashed corridor. It was a gruesome place; rows +and rows of heavy doors with little, barred windows. I noticed +that each door had a combination knob, like a safe. My knees felt +awfully shaky. + +But it wasn't really so heart-throbby as I had expected. The jailer +stopped at the end of a long passageway. He spun the clicking dial, +while I waited in a kind of horror. I think I expected to see the +Professor with shaved head (they couldn't shave much off his head, +poor lamb!) and striped canvas suit, and a ball and chain on his +ankle. + +The door swung open heavily. There was a narrow, clean little room +with a low camp bed, and under the barred window a table strewn with +sheets of paper. It was the Professor in his own clothes, writing +busily, with his back toward me. Perhaps he thought it was only +an attendant with food, or perhaps he didn't even hear the +interruption. I could hear his pen running busily. I might have +known you never would get any heroics out of that man! Trust him +to make the best of it! + +"Lemon sole and a glass of sherry, please, James," said the +Professor over his shoulder, and the warder, who evidently had +joked with him before, broke into a cackle of laughter. + +"A lady to see yer Lordship," he said. + +The Professor turned round. His face went quite white. For the first +time in my experience of him he seemed to be at a loss for speech. + +"Miss--Miss McGill," he stammered. "You _are_ the good Samaritan. +I'm doing the John Bunyan act, see? Writing in prison. I've really +started my book at last. And I find the fellows here know nothing +whatever about literature. There isn't even a library in the place." + +For the life of me, I couldn't utter the tenderness in my heart with +that gorilla of a jailer standing behind us. + +Somehow we made our way downstairs, after the Professor had gathered +together the sheets of his manuscript. It had already reached +formidable proportions, as he had written fifty pages in the +thirty-six hours he had been in prison. In the office we had to sign +some papers. The sheriff was very apologetic to Mifflin, and offered +to take him back to town in his car, but I explained that Parnassus +was waiting at the gate. The Professor's eyes brightened when he +heard that, but I had to hurry him away from an argument about +putting good books in prisons. The sheriff walked with us to the +gate and there shook hands again. + +Peg whickered as we came up to her, and the Professor patted her +soft nose. Bock tugged at his chain in a frenzy of joy. At last we +were alone. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + + +I never knew just how it happened. Instead of driving back through +Port Vigor, we turned into a side road leading up over the hill and +across the heath where the air came fresh and sweet from the sea. +The Professor sat very silent, looking about him. There was a grove +of birches on the hill, and the sunlight played upon their satin +boles. + +"It feels good to be out again," he said calmly. "The Sage cannot +be so keen a lover of open air as his books would indicate, or he +wouldn't be so ready to clap a man into quod. Perhaps I owe him +another punch on the nose for that." + +"Oh, Roger," I said--and I'm afraid my voice was trembly--"I'm +_sorry_. I'm _sorry_." + +Not very eloquent, was it? And then, somehow or other, his arm was +around me. + +"Helen," he said. "Will you marry me? I'm not rich, but I've saved +up enough to live on. We'll always have Parnassus, and this winter +we'll go and live in Brooklyn and write the book. And we'll travel +around with Peg, and preach the love of books and the love of human +beings. Helen--you're just what I need, God bless you. Will you come +with me and make me the happiest bookseller in the world?" + +Peg must have been astonished at the length of time she had for +cropping the grass, undisturbed. I know that Roger and I sat +careless of time. And when he told me that ever since our first +afternoon together he had determined to have me, sooner or later, +I was the proudest woman in New England. I told Roger about the +ghastly wreck, and my agony of apprehension. I think it was the +wreck that made us both feel inclined to forgive Andrew. + +We had a light luncheon together there on the dunes above the Sound. +By taking a short cut over the ridge we struck into the Shelby road +without going down into Port Vigor again. Peg pulled us along toward +Greenbriar, and we talked as we went. + +Perhaps the best of it was that a cold drizzle of rain began to fall +as we moved along the hill road. The Professor--as I still call him, +by force of habit--curtained in the front of the van with a rubber +sheet. Bock hopped up and curled himself aginst his master's leg. +Roger got out his corncob pipe, and I sat close to him. In the +gathering gloom we plodded along, as happy a trio--or quartet, if +you include fat, cheery old Peg--as any on this planet. Summer was +over, and we were no longer young, but there were great things +before us. I listened to the drip of the rain, and the steady creak +of Parnassus on her axles. I thought of my "anthology" of loaves of +bread and vowed to bake a million more if Roger wanted me to. It was +after supper time when we got to Greenbriar. Roger had suggested +that we take a shorter road that would have brought us through to +Redfield sooner, but I begged him to go by way of Shelby and +Greenbriar, just as we had come before. I did not tell him why I +wanted this. And when finally we came to a halt in front of Kirby's +store at the crossroads it was raining heavily and we were ready for +a rest. + +"Well, sweetheart," said Roger, "shall we go and see what sort of +rooms the hotel has?" + +"I can think of something better than that," said I. "Let's go up to +Mr. Kane and have him marry us. Then we can get back to Sabine Farm +afterward, and give Andrew a surprise." + +"By the bones of Hymen!" said Roger. "You're right!" + +It must have been ten o'clock when we turned in at the red gate +of Sabine Farm. The rain had stopped, but the wheels sloshed +through mud and water at every turn. The light was burning in the +sitting-room, and through the window I could see Andrew bent over +his work table. We climbed out, stiff and sore from the long ride. +I saw Roger's face set in a comical blend of sternness and humour. + +"Well, here goes to surprise the Sage!" he whispered. + +We picked our way between puddles and rapped on the door. Andrew +appeared, carrying the lamp in one hand. When he saw us he grunted. + +"Let me introduce my wife," said Roger. + +"Well, I'll be damned," said Andrew. + +But Andrew isn't quite so black as I've painted him. When he's +once convinced of the error of his ways, he is almost pathetically +eager to make up. I remember only one remark in the subsequent +conversation, because I was so appalled by the state of everything +at Sabine Farm that I immediately set about putting the house to +rights. The two men, however, as soon as Parnassus was housed in +the barn and the animals under cover, sat down by the stove to talk +things over. + +"I tell you what," said Andrew--"do whatever you like with your +wife; she's too much for me. But I'd like to buy that Parnassus." + +"Not on your life!" said the Professor. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Parnassus on Wheels, by Christopher Morley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARNASSUS ON WHEELS *** + +***** This file should be named 5311.txt or 5311.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/1/5311/ + +Produced by Andrew Sly + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Parnassus on Wheels + +Author: Christopher Morley + +Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5311] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on June 29, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARNASSUS ON WHEELS *** + + + + + + + +Digitized by Cardinalis Press, C.E.K. +Prepared for Project Gutenberg by Andrew Sly + + + + + + +PARNASSUS ON WHEELS + +BY + +CHRISTOPHER MORLEY + + +To H.B.F. and H.F.M. +"Trusty, dusky, vivid, true" + + +A LETTER TO +David Grayson, Esq. +OF HEMPFIELD, U.S.A. + + +MY DEAR SIR, + +Although my name appears on the title page, the real author of this +book is Miss Helen McGill (now Mrs. Roger Mifflin), who told me the +story with her own inimitable vivacity. And on her behalf I want to +send to you these few words of acknowledgment. + +Mrs. Mifflin, I need hardly say, is unskilled in the arts of +authorship: this is her first book, and I doubt whether she will +ever write another. She hardly realized, I think, how much her +story owes to your own delightful writings. There used to be a +well-thumbed copy of "Adventures in Contentment" on her table at the +Sabine Farm, and I have seen her pick it up, after a long day in +the kitchen, read it with chuckles, and say that the story of you +and Harriet reminded her of herself and Andrew. She used to mutter +something about "Adventures in Discontentment" and ask why Harriet's +side of the matter was never told? And so when her own adventure +came to pass, and she was urged to put it on paper, I think she +unconsciously adopted something of the manner and matter that you +have made properly yours. + +Surely, sir, you will not disown so innocent a tribute! At any rate, +Miss Harriet Grayson, whose excellent qualities we have all so long +admired, will find in Mrs. Mifflin a kindred spirit. + +Mrs. Mifflin would have said this for herself, with her characteristic +definiteness of speech, had she not been out of touch with her +publishers and foolscap paper. She and the Professor are on their +Parnassus, somewhere on the high roads, happily engrossed in the +most godly diversion known to man--selling books. And I venture +to think that there are no volumes they take more pleasure in +recommending than the wholesome and invigorating books which bear +your name. + +Believe me, dear Mr. Grayson, with warm regards, + +Faithfully yours, +CHRISTOPHER MORLEY. + + + +CHAPTER ONE + + +I wonder if there isn't a lot of bunkum in higher education? I never +found that people who were learned in logarithms and other kinds of +poetry were any quicker in washing dishes or darning socks. I've +done a good deal of reading when I could, and I don't want to "admit +impediments" to the love of books, but I've also seen lots of good, +practical folk spoiled by too much fine print. Reading sonnets +always gives me hiccups, too. + +I never expected to be an author! But I do think there are some +amusing things about the story of Andrew and myself and how books +broke up our placid life. When John Gutenberg, whose real name (so +the Professor says) was John Gooseflesh, borrowed that money to set +up his printing press he launched a lot of troubles on the world. + +Andrew and I were wonderfully happy on the farm until he became an +author. If I could have foreseen all the bother his writings were +to cause us, I would certainly have burnt the first manuscript in +the kitchen stove. + +Andrew McGill, the author of those books every one reads, is my +brother. In other words, I am his sister, ten years younger. Years +ago Andrew was a business man, but his health failed and, like so +many people in the story books, he fled to the country, or, as he +called it, to the bosom of Nature. He and I were the only ones left +in an unsuccessful family. I was slowly perishing as a conscientious +governess in the brownstone region of New York. He rescued me from +that and we bought a farm with our combined savings. We became real +farmers, up with the sun and to bed with the same. Andrew wore +overalls and a soft shirt and grew brown and tough. My hands got +red and blue with soapsuds and frost; I never saw a Redfern +advertisement from one year's end to another, and my kitchen was a +battlefield where I set my teeth and learned to love hard work. +Our literature was government agriculture reports, patent medicine +almanacs, seedsmen's booklets, and Sears Roebuck catalogues. We +subscribed to Farm and Fireside and read the serials aloud. Every +now and then, for real excitement, we read something stirring in the +Old Testament--that cheery book Jeremiah, for instance, of which +Andrew was very fond. The farm did actually prosper, after a while; +and Andrew used to hang over the pasture bars at sunset, and tell, +from the way his pipe burned, just what the weather would be the +next day. + +As I have said, we were tremendously happy until Andrew got the +fatal idea of telling the world how happy we were. I am sorry to +have to admit he had always been rather a bookish man. In his +college days he had edited the students' magazine, and sometimes he +would get discontented with the Farm and Fireside serials and pull +down his bound volumes of the college paper. He would read me some +of his youthful poems and stories and mutter vaguely about writing +something himself some day. I was more concerned with sitting hens +than with sonnets and I'm bound to say I never took these threats +very seriously. I should have been more severe. + +Then great-uncle Philip died, and his carload of books came to us. +He had been a college professor, and years ago when Andrew was a +boy Uncle Philip had been very fond of him--had, in fact, put him +through college. We were the only near relatives, and all those +books turned up one fine day. That was the beginning of the end, +if I had only known it. Andrew had the time of his life building +shelves all round our living-room; not content with that he turned +the old hen house into a study for himself, put in a stove, and used +to sit up there evenings after I had gone to bed. The first thing I +knew he called the place Sabine Farm (although it had been known for +years as Bog Hollow) because he thought it a literary thing to do. +He used to take a book along with him when he drove over to Redfield +for supplies; sometimes the wagon would be two hours late coming +home, with old Ben loafing along between the shafts and Andrew lost +in his book. + +I didn't think much of all this, but I'm an easy-going woman and +as long as Andrew kept the farm going I had plenty to do on my own +hook. Hot bread and coffee, eggs and preserves for breakfast; soup +and hot meat, vegetables, dumplings, gravy, brown bread and white, +huckleberry pudding, chocolate cake and buttermilk for dinner; +muffins, tea, sausage rolls, blackberries and cream, and doughnuts +for supper--that's the kind of menu I had been preparing three times +a day for years. I hadn't any time to worry about what wasn't my +business. + +And then one morning I caught Andrew doing up a big, flat parcel for +the postman. He looked so sheepish I just had to ask what it was. + +"I've written a book," said Andrew, and he showed me the title page-- + + PARADISE REGAINED + BY + ANDREW McGILL + +Even then I wasn't much worried, because of course I knew no one +would print it. But Lord! a month or so later came a letter from a +publisher--accepting it! That's the letter Andrew keeps framed above +his desk. Just to show how such things sound I'll copy it here: + + DECAMERON, JONES AND COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + UNION SQUARE, NEW YORK + + January 13, 1907. + +DEAR MR. McGILL: + +We have read with singular pleasure your manuscript "Paradise +Regained." There is no doubt in our minds that so spirited an +account of the joys of sane country living should meet with +popular approval, and, with the exception of a few revisions and +abbreviations, we would be glad to publish the book practically as +it stands. We would like to have it illustrated by Mr. Tortoni, some +of whose work you may have seen, and would be glad to know whether +he may call upon you in order to acquaint himself with the local +colour of your neighbourhood. + +We would be glad to pay you a royalty of 10 percent upon the retail +price of the book, and we enclose duplicate contracts for your +signature in case this proves satisfactory to you. + +Believe us, etc., etc., + +DECAMERON, JONES & CO. + + +I have since thought that "Paradise Lost" would have been a better +title for that book. It was published in the autumn of 1907, and +since that time our life has never been the same. By some mischance +the book became the success of the season; it was widely commended +as "a gospel of health and sanity" and Andrew received, in almost +every mail, offers from publishers and magazine editors who wanted +to get hold of his next book. It is almost incredible to what +stratagems publishers will descend to influence an author. Andrew +had written in "Paradise Regained" of the tramps who visit us, how +quaint and appealing some of them are (let me add, how dirty), +and how we never turn away any one who seems worthy. Would you +believe that, in the spring after the book was published, a +disreputable-looking vagabond with a knapsack, who turned up one +day, blarneyed Andrew about his book and stayed overnight, announced +himself at breakfast as a leading New York publisher? He had chosen +this ruse in order to make Andrew's acquaintance. + +You can imagine that it didn't take long for Andrew to become +spoiled at this rate! The next year he suddenly disappeared, leaving +only a note on the kitchen table, and tramped all over the state for +six weeks collecting material for a new book. I had all I could do +to keep him from going to New York to talk to editors and people of +that sort. Envelopes of newspaper cuttings used to come to him, and +he would pore over them when he ought to have been ploughing corn. +Luckily the mail man comes along about the middle of the morning +when Andrew is out in the fields, so I used to look over the letters +before he saw them. After the second book ("Happiness and Hayseed" +it was called) was printed, letters from publishers got so thick +that I used to put them all in the stove before Andrew saw +them--except those from the Decameron Jones people, which sometimes +held checks. Literary folk used to turn up now and then to interview +Andrew, but generally I managed to head them off. + +But Andrew got to be less and less of a farmer and more and more +of a literary man. He bought a typewriter. He would hang over the +pigpen noting down adjectives for the sunset instead of mending the +weather vane on the barn which took a slew so that the north wind +came from the southwest. He hardly ever looked at the Sears Roebuck +catalogues any more, and after Mr. Decameron came to visit us and +suggested that Andrew write a book of country poems, the man became +simply unbearable. + +And all the time I was counting eggs and turning out three meals a +day, and running the farm when Andrew got a literary fit and would +go off on some vagabond jaunt to collect adventures for a new book. +(I wish you could have seen the state he was in when he came back +from these trips, hoboing it along the roads without any money or a +clean sock to his back. One time he returned with a cough you could +hear the other side of the barn, and I had to nurse him for three +weeks.) When somebody wrote a little booklet about "The Sage of +Redfield" and described me as a "rural Xantippe" and "the domestic +balance-wheel that kept the great writer close to the homely +realities of life" I made up my mind to give Andrew some of his own +medicine. And that's my story. + + + +CHAPTER TWO + + +It was a fine, crisp morning in fall--October I dare say--and I was +in the kitchen coring apples for apple sauce. We were going to have +roast pork for dinner with boiled potatoes and what Andrew calls +Vandyke brown gravy. Andrew had driven over to town to get some +flour and feed and wouldn't be back till noontime. + +Being a Monday, Mrs. McNally, the washerwoman, had come over to take +care of the washing. I remember I was just on my way out to the wood +pile for a few sticks of birch when I heard wheels turn in at the +gate. There was one of the fattest white horses I ever saw, and a +queer wagon, shaped like a van. A funny-looking little man with a +red beard leaned forward from the seat and said something. I didn't +hear what it was, I was looking at that preposterous wagon of his. + +It was coloured a pale, robin's-egg blue, and on the side, in big +scarlet letters, was painted: + + R. MIFFLIN'S + TRAVELLING PARNASSUS + GOOD BOOKS FOR SALE + SHAKESPEARE, CHARLES LAMB, R.L.S. + HAZLITT, AND ALL OTHERS + +Underneath the wagon, in slings, hung what looked like a tent, +together with a lantern, a bucket, and other small things. The van +had a raised skylight on the roof, something like an old-fashioned +trolley car; and from one corner went up a stove pipe. At the back +was a door with little windows on each side and a flight of steps +leading up to it. + +As I stood looking at this queer turnout, the little reddish man +climbed down from in front and stood watching me. His face was a +comic mixture of pleasant drollery and a sort of weather-beaten +cynicism. He had a neat little russet beard and a shabby Norfolk +jacket. His head was very bald. + +"Is this where Andrew McGill lives?" he said. + +I admitted it. + +"But he's away until noon," I added. "He'll be back then. There's +roast pork for dinner." + +"And apple sauce?" said the little man. + +"Apple sauce and brown gravy," I said. "That's why I'm sure he'll be +home on time. Sometimes he's late when there's boiled dinner, but +never on roast pork days. Andrew would never do for a rabbi." + +A sudden suspicion struck me. + +"You're not another publisher, are you?" I cried. "What do you want +with Andrew?" + +"I was wondering whether he wouldn't buy this outfit," said the +little man, including, with a wave of the hand, both van and white +horse. As he spoke he released a hook somewhere, and raised the +whole side of his wagon like a flap. Some kind of catch clicked, the +flap remained up like a roof, displaying nothing but books--rows and +rows of them. The flank of his van was nothing but a big bookcase. +Shelves stood above shelves, all of them full of books--both old and +new. As I stood gazing, he pulled out a printed card from somewhere +and gave it to me: + + ROGER MIFFLIN'S + TRAVELLING PARNASSUS + + Worthy friends, my wain doth hold + Many a book, both new and old; + Books, the truest friends of man, + Fill this rolling caravan. + Books to satisfy all uses, + Golden lyrics of the Muses, + Books on cookery and farming, + Novels passionate and charming, + Every kind for every need + So that he who buys may read. + What librarian can surpass us? + + MIFFLIN'S TRAVELLING PARNASSUS + + By R. Mifflin, Prop'r. + + Star Job Print, Celeryville, Va. + +While I was chuckling over this, he had raised a similar flap on the +other side of the Parnassus which revealed still more shelves loaded +with books. + +I'm afraid I am severely practical by nature. + +"Well!" I said, "I should think you _would_ need a pretty stout +steed to lug that load along. It must weigh more than a coal wagon." + +"Oh, Peg can manage it all right," he said. "We don't travel very +fast. But look here, I want to sell out. Do you suppose your husband +would buy the outfit--Parnassus, Pegasus, and all? He's fond of +books, isn't he? + +"Hold on a minute!" I said. "Andrew's my brother, not my husband, +and he's altogether _too_ fond of books. Books'll be the ruin of +this farm pretty soon. He's mooning about over his books like a +sitting hen about half the time, when he ought to be mending +harness. Lord, if he saw this wagonload of yours he'd be unsettled +for a week. I have to stop the postman down the road and take all +the publishers' catalogues out of the mail so that Andrew don't +see 'em. I'm mighty glad he's not here just now, I can tell you!" + +I'm not literary, as I said before, but I'm human enough to like +a good book, and my eye was running along those shelves of his +as I spoke. He certainly had a pretty miscellaneous collection. +I noticed poetry, essays, novels, cook books, juveniles, school +books, Bibles, and what not--all jumbled together. + +"Well, see here," said the little man--and about this time I noticed +that he had the bright eyes of a fanatic--"I've been cruising with +this Parnassus going on seven years. I've covered the territory from +Florida to Maine and I reckon I've injected about as much good +literature into the countryside as ever old Doc Eliot did with his +five-foot shelf. I want to sell out now. I'm going to write a book +about 'Literature Among the Farmers,' and want to settle down with +my brother in Brooklyn and write it. I've got a sackful of notes for +it. I guess I'll just stick around until Mr. McGill gets home and +see if he won't buy me out. I'll sell the whole concern, horse, +wagon, and books, for $400. I've read Andrew McGill's stuff and I +reckon the proposition'll interest him. I've had more fun with this +Parnassus than a barrel of monkeys. I used to be a school teacher +till my health broke down. Then I took this up and I've made more +than expenses and had the time of my life." + +"Well, Mr. Mifflin," I said, "if you want to stay around I guess I +can't stop you. But I'm sorry you and your old Parnassus ever came +this way." + +I turned on my heel and went back to the kitchen. I knew pretty well +that Andrew would go up in the air when he saw that wagonload of +books and one of those crazy cards with Mr. Mifflin's poetry on it. + +I must confess that I was considerably upset. Andrew is just as +unpractical and fanciful as a young girl, and always dreaming of +new adventures and rambles around the country. If he ever saw that +travelling Parnassus he'd fall for it like snap. And I knew Mr. +Decameron was after him for a new book anyway. (I'd intercepted one +of his letters suggesting another "Happiness and Hayseed" trip just +a few weeks before. Andrew was away when the letter came. I had a +suspicion what was in it; so I opened it, read it, and--well, burnt +it. Heavens! as though Andrew didn't have enough to do without +mooning down the road like a tinker, just to write a book about it.) + +As I worked around the kitchen I could see Mr. Mifflin making +himself at home. He unhitched his horse, tied her up to the fence, +sat down by the wood pile, and lit a pipe. I could see I was in for +it. By and by I couldn't stand it any longer. I went out to talk to +that bald-headed pedlar. + +"See here," I said. "You're a pretty cool fish to make yourself so +easy in my yard. I tell you I don't want you around here, you and +your travelling parcheesi. Suppose you clear out of here before my +brother gets back and don't be breaking up our happy family." + +"Miss McGill," he said (the man had a pleasant way with him, +too--darn him--with his bright, twinkling eye and his silly little +beard), "I'm sure I don't want to be discourteous. If you move me on +from here, of course I'll go; but I warn you I shall lie in wait for +Mr. McGill just down this road. I'm here to sell this caravan of +culture, and by the bones of Swinburne I think your brother's the +man to buy it." + +My blood was up now, and I'll admit that I said my next without +proper calculation. + +"Rather than have Andrew buy your old parcheesi," I said, "I'll buy +it myself. I'll give you $300 for it." + +The little man's face brightened. He didn't either accept or decline +my offer. (I was frightened to death that he'd take me right on the +nail and bang would go my three years' savings for a Ford.) + +"Come and have another look at her," he said. + +I must admit that Mr. Roger Mifflin had fixed up his van mighty +comfortably inside. The body of the wagon was built out on each side +over the wheels, which gave it an unwieldy appearance but made extra +room for the bookshelves. This left an inside space about five feet +wide and nine long. On one side he had a little oil stove, a flap +table, and a cozy-looking bunk above which was built a kind of chest +of drawers--to hold clothes and such things, I suppose; on the other +side more bookshelves, a small table, and a little wicker easy +chair. Every possible inch of space seemed to be made useful in some +way, for a shelf or a hook or a hanging cupboard or something. Above +the stove was a neat little row of pots and dishes and cooking +usefuls. The raised skylight made it just possible to stand upright +in the centre aisle of the van; and a little sliding window opened +onto the driver's seat in front. Altogether it was a very neat +affair. The windows in front and back were curtained and a pot of +geraniums stood on a diminutive shelf. I was amused to see a sandy +Irish terrier curled up on a bright Mexican blanket in the bunk. + +"Miss McGill," he said, "I couldn't sell Parnassus for less than +four hundred. I've put twice that much into her, one time and +another. She's built clean and solid all through, and there's +everything a man would need from blankets to bouillon cubes. The +whole thing's yours for $400--including dog, cook stove, and +everything--jib, boom, and spanker. There's a tent in a sling +underneath, and an ice box (he pulled up a little trap door under +the bunk) and a tank of coal oil and Lord knows what all. She's as +good as a yacht; but I'm tired of her. If you're so afraid of your +brother taking a fancy to her, why don't you buy her yourself and +go off on a lark? Make _him_ stay home and mind the farm!... Tell +you what I'll do. I'll start you on the road myself, come with you +the first day and show you how it's worked. You could have the time +of your life in this thing, and give yourself a fine vacation. It +would give your brother a good surprise, too. Why not?" + +I don't know whether it was the neatness of his absurd little van, +or the madness of the whole proposition, or just the desire to have +an adventure of my own and play a trick on Andrew, but anyway, some +extraordinary impulse seized me and I roared with laughter. + +"Right!" I said. "I'll do it." + +I, Helen McGill, in the thirty-ninth year of my age! + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +"Well," I thought, "if I'm in for an adventure I may as well be spry +about it. Andrew'll be home by half-past twelve and if I'm going to +give him the slip I'd better get a start. I suppose he'll think I'm +crazy! He'll follow me, I guess. Well, he just shan't catch me, +that's all!" A kind of anger came over me to think that I'd been +living on that farm for nearly fifteen years--yes, sir, ever since +I was twenty-five--and hardly ever been away except for that trip +to Boston once a year to go shopping with cousin Edie. I'm a +home-keeping soul, I guess, and I love my kitchen and my preserve +cupboard and my linen closet as well as grandmother ever did, but +something in that blue October air and that crazy little red-bearded +man just tickled me. + +"Look here, Mr. Parnassus," I said, "I guess I'm a fat old fool but +I just believe I'll do that. You hitch up your horse and van and +I'll go pack some clothes and write you a check. It'll do Andrew all +the good in the world to have me skip. I'll get a chance to read a +few books, too. It'll be as good as going to college!" And I untied +my apron and ran for the house. The little man stood leaning against +a corner of the van as if he were stupefied. I dare say he was. + +I ran into the house through the front door, and it struck me as +comical to see a copy of one of Andrew's magazines lying on the +living-room table with "The Revolt of Womanhood" printed across +it in red letters. "Here goes for the revolt of Helen McGill," I +thought. I sat down at Andrew's desk, pushed aside a pad of notes +he had been jotting down about "the magic of autumn," and scrawled +a few lines: + +DEAR ANDREW, + +Don't be thinking I'm crazy. I've gone off for an adventure. It just +came over me that you've had all the adventures while I've been at +home baking bread. Mrs. McNally will look after your meals and one +of her girls can come over to do the housework. So don't worry. I'm +going off for a little while--a month, maybe--to see some of this +happiness and hayseed of yours. It's what the magazines call the +revolt of womanhood. Warm underwear in the cedar chest in the spare +room when you need it. With love, HELEN. + +I left the note on his desk. + +Mrs. McNally was bending over the tubs in the laundry. I could see +only the broad arch of her back and hear the vigorous zzzzzzz of her +rubbing. She straightened up at my call. + +"Mrs. McNally," I said, "I'm going away for a little trip. You'd +better let the washing go until this afternoon and get Andrew's +dinner for him. He'll be back about twelve-thirty. It's half-past +ten now. You tell him I've gone over to see Mrs. Collins at Locust +Farm." + +Mrs. McNally is a brawny, slow-witted Swede. "All right Mis' +McGill," she said. "You be back to denner?" + +"No, I'm not coming back for a month," I said. "I'm going away for +a trip. I want you to send Rosie over here every day to do the +housework while I'm away. You can arrange with Mr. McGill about +that. I've got to hurry now." + +Mrs. McNally's honest eyes, as blue as Copenhagen china, gazing +through the window in perplexity, fell upon the travelling Parnassus +and Mr. Mifflin backing Pegasus into the shafts. I saw her make a +valiant effort to comprehend the sign painted on the side of the +van--and give it up. + +"You going driving?" she said blankly. + +"Yes," I said, and fled upstairs. + +I always keep my bank book in an old Huyler box in the top drawer +of my bureau. I don't save very quickly, I'm afraid. I have a +little income from some money father left me, but Andrew takes care +of that. Andrew pays all the farm expenses, but the housekeeping +accounts fall to me. I make a fairish amount of pin money on my +poultry and some of my preserves that I send to Boston, and on some +recipes of mine that I send to a woman's magazine now and then; but +generally my savings don't amount to much over $10 a month. In the +last five years I had put by something more than $600. I had been +saving up for a Ford. But just now it looked to me as if that +Parnassus would be more fun than a Ford ever could be. Four hundred +dollars was a lot of money, but I thought of what it would mean +to have Andrew come home and buy it. Why, he'd be away until +Thanksgiving! Whereas if I bought it I could take it away, have my +adventure, and sell it somewhere so that Andrew never need see it. +I hardened my heart and determined to give the Sage of Redfield +some of his own medicine. + +My balance at the Redfield National Bank was $615.20. I sat down at +the table in my bedroom where I keep my accounts and wrote out a +check to Roger Mifflin for $400. I put in plenty of curlicues after +the figures so that no one could raise the check into $400,000; then +I got out my old rattan suit case and put in some clothes. The whole +business didn't take me ten minutes. I came downstairs to find Mrs. +McNally looking sourly at the Parnassus from the kitchen door. + +"You going away in that--that 'bus, Mis' McGill?" she asked. + +"Yes, Mrs. McNally," I said cheerfully. Her use of the word gave me +an inspiration. "That's one of the new jitney 'buses we hear about. +He's going to take me to the station. Don't you worry about me. I'm +going for a holiday. You get Mr. McGill's dinner ready for him. +After dinner tell him there's a note for him in the living-room." + +"I tank that bane a queer 'bus," said Mrs. McNally, puzzled. I think +the excellent woman suspected an elopement. + +I carried my suit case out to the Parnassus. Pegasus stood placidly +between the shafts. From within came sounds of vigorous movement. In +a moment the little man burst out with a bulging portmanteau in his +hand. He had a tweed cap slanted on the back of his head. + +"There!" he cried triumphantly. "I've packed all my personal effects +clothes and so on--and everything else goes with the transaction. +When I get on the train with this bag I'm a free man, and hurrah for +Brooklyn! Lord, won't I be glad to get back to the city! I lived in +Brooklyn once, and I haven't been back there for ten years," he +added plaintively. + +"Here's the check," I said, handing it to him. He flushed a little, +and looked at me rather shamefacedly. "See here," he said, "I hope +you're not making a bad bargain? I don't want to take advantage of a +lady. If you think your brother...." + +"I was going to buy a Ford, anyway," I said, "and it looks to me +as though this parcheesi of yours would be cheaper to run than any +flivver that ever came out of Detroit. I want to keep it away from +Andrew and that's the main thing. You give me a receipt and we'll +get away from here before he comes back." + +He took the check without a word, hoisted his fat portmanteau on the +driver's seat, and then disappeared in the van. In a minute he +reappeared. On the back of one of his poetical cards he had written: + +Received from Miss McGill the sum of four hundred dollars in +exchange for one Travelling Parnassus in first class condition, +delivered to her this day, October 3rd, 19--. + +Signed +ROGER MIFFLIN. + +"Tell me," I said, "does your Parnassus--_my_ Parnassus, +rather--contain everything I'm likely to need? Is it stocked up +with food and so on?" + +"I was coming to that," he said. "You'll find a fair supply of stuff +in the cupboard over the stove, though I used to get most of my +meals at farmhouses along the road. I generally read aloud to people +as I go along, and they're often good for a free meal. It's amazing +how little most of the country folk know about books, and how +pleased they are to hear good stuff. Down in Lancaster County, +Pennsylvania...." + +"Well, how about the horse?" I said hastily, seeing him about to +embark on an anecdote. It wasn't far short of eleven o'clock, and I +was anxious to get started. + +"It might be well to take along some oats. My supply's about +exhausted." + +I filled a sack with oats in the stable and Mr. Mifflin showed me +where to hang it under the van. Then in the kitchen I loaded a big +basket with provisions for an emergency: a dozen eggs, a jar of +sliced bacon, butter, cheese, condensed milk, tea, biscuits, jam, +and two loaves of bread. These Mr. Mifflin stowed inside the van, +Mrs. McNally watching in amazement. + +"I tank this bane a queer picnic!" she said. "Which way are you +going? Mr. McGill, is he coming after you?" + +"No," I insisted, "he's not coming. I'm going off on a holiday. You +get dinner for him and he won't worry about anything until after +that. Tell him I've gone over to see Mrs. Collins." + +I climbed the little steps and entered my Parnassus with a pleasant +thrill of ownership. The terrier on the bunk jumped to the floor +with a friendly wag of the tail. I piled the bunk with bedding and +blankets of my own, shook out the drawers which fitted above the +bunk, and put into them what few belongings I was taking with me. +And we were ready to start. + +Redbeard was already sitting in front with the reins in hand. I +climbed up beside him. The front seat was broad but uncushioned, +well sheltered by the peak of the van. I gave a quick glance around +at the comfortable house under its elms and maples--saw the big, red +barn shining in the sun and the pump under the grape arbour. I waved +good-bye to Mrs. McNally who was watching us in silent amazement. +Pegasus threw her solid weight against the traces and Parnassus +swung round and rolled past the gate. We turned into the Redfield +road. + +"Here," said Mifflin, handing me the reins, "you're skipper, you'd +better drive. Which way do you want to go?" + +My breath came a little fast when I realized that my adventure had +begun! + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +Just out of sight of the farm the road forks, one way running on +to Walton where you cross the river by a covered bridge, the other +swinging down toward Greenbriar and Port Vigor. Mrs. Collins lives a +mile or so up the Walton road, and as I very often run over to see +her I thought Andrew would be most likely to look for me there. So, +after we had passed through the grove, I took the right-hand turn to +Greenbriar. We began the long ascent over Huckleberry Hill and as I +smelt the fresh autumn odour of the leaves I chuckled a little. + +Mr. Mifflin seemed in a perfect ecstasy of high spirits. "This is +certainly grand," he said. "Lord, I applaud your spunk. Do you think +Mr. McGill will give chase?" + +"I haven't an idea," I said. "Not right away, anyhow. He's so used +to my settled ways that I don't think he'll suspect anything till he +finds my note. I wonder what kind of story Mrs. McNally will tell!" + +"How about putting him off the scent?" he said. "Give me your +handkerchief." + +I did so. He hopped nimbly out, ran back down the hill (he was a +spry little person in spite of his bald crown), and dropped the +handkerchief on the Walton Road about a hundred feet beyond the +fork. Then he followed me up the slope. + +"There," he said, grinning like a kid, "that'll fool him. The Sage +of Redfield will undoubtedly follow a false spoor and the criminals +will win a good start. But I'm afraid it's rather easy to follow a +craft as unusual as Parnassus." + +"Tell me how you manage the thing," I said. "Do you really make it +pay?" We halted at the top of the hill to give Pegasus a breathing +space. The terrier lay down in the dust and watched us gravely. Mr. +Mifflin pulled out a pipe and begged my permission to smoke. + +"It's rather comical how I first got into it," he said. "I was a +school teacher down in Maryland. I'd been plugging away in a country +school for years, on a starvation salary. I was trying to support an +invalid mother, and put by something in case of storms. I remember +how I used to wonder whether I'd ever be able to wear a suit that +wasn't shabby and have my shoes polished every day. Then my health +went back on me. The doctor told me to get into the open air. By and +by I got this idea of a travelling bookstore. I had always been a +lover of books, and in the days when I boarded out among the farmers +I used to read aloud to them. After my mother died I built the wagon +to suit my own ideas, bought a stock of books from a big second-hand +store in Baltimore, and set out. Parnassus just about saved my life +I guess." + +He pushed his faded old cap back on his head and relit his pipe. +I clicked to Pegasus and we rumbled gently off over the upland, +looking down across the pastures. Distant cow bells sounded +tankle-tonk among the bushes. Across the slope of the hill I could +see the road winding away to Redfield. Somewhere along that road +Andrew would be rolling back toward home and roast pork with apple +sauce; and here was I, setting out on the first madness of my life +without even a qualm. + +"Miss McGill," said the little man, "this rolling pavilion has been +wife, doctor, and religion to me for seven years. A month ago I +would have scoffed at the thought of leaving her; but somehow it's +come over me I need a change. There's a book I've been yearning to +write for a long time, and I need a desk steady under my elbows and +a roof over my head. And silly as it seems, I'm crazy to get back +to Brooklyn. My brother and I used to live there as kids. Think +of walking over the old Bridge at sunset and seeing the towers of +Manhattan against a red sky! And those old gray cruisers down in the +Navy Yard! You don't know how tickled I am to sell out. I've sold a +lot of copies of your brother's books and I've often thought he'd be +the man to buy Parnassus if I got tired of her." + +"So he would," I said. "Just the man. He'd be only too likely +to--and go maundering about in this jaunting car and neglect the +farm. But tell me about selling books. How much profit do you make +out of it? We'll be passing Mrs. Mason's farm, by and by, and we +might as well sell her something just to make a start." + +"It's very simple," he said. "I replenish my stock whenever I go +through a big town. There's always a second-hand bookstore somewhere +about, where you can pick up odds and ends. And every now and then I +write to a wholesaler in New York for some stuff. When I buy a book +I mark in the back just what I paid for it, then I know what I can +afford to sell it for. See here." + +He pulled up a book from behind the seat--a copy of "Lorna Doone" it +was--and showed me the letters _a m_ scrawled in pencil in the back. + +"That means that I paid ten cents for this. Now, if you sell it for +a quarter you've got a safe profit. It costs me about four dollars a +week to run Parnassus--generally less. If you clear that much in six +days you can afford to lay off on Sundays!" + +"How do you know that _a m_ stands for ten cents?" I asked. + +"The code word's _manuscript_. Each letter stands for a figure, +from 0 up to 9, see?" He scrawled it down on a scrap of paper: + + m a n u s c r i p t + 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 + +"Now, you see _a m_ stands for 10, _a n_ would be 12, _n s_ is 24, +_a c_ is 15, _a m m_ is $1.00, and so on. I don't pay much over +fifty cents for books as a rule, because country folks are shy of +paying much for them. They'll pay a lot for a separator or a buggy +top, but they've never been taught to worry about literature! But +it's surprising how excited they get about books if you sell 'em the +right kind. Over beyond Port Vigor there's a farmer who's waiting +for me to go back--I've been there three or four times--and he'll +buy about five dollars' worth if I know him. First time I went there +I sold him 'Treasure Island,' and he's talking about it yet. I sold +him 'Robinson Crusoe,' and 'Little Women' for his daughter, and +'Huck Finn,' and Grubb's book about 'The Potato.' Last time I was +there he wanted some Shakespeare, but I wouldn't give it to him. +I didn't think he was up to it yet." + +I began to see something of the little man's idealism in his work. +He was a kind of traveling missionary in his way. A hefty talker, +too. His eyes were twinkling now and I could see him warming up. + +"Lord!" he said, "when you sell a man a book you don't sell him +just twelve ounces of paper and ink and glue--you sell him a whole +new life. Love and friendship and humour and ships at sea by +night--there's all heaven and earth in a book, a real book I mean. +Jiminy! If I were the baker or the butcher or the broom huckster, +people would run to the gate when I came by--just waiting for my +stuff. And here I go loaded with everlasting salvation--yes, ma'am, +salvation for their little, stunted minds--and it's hard to make 'em +see it. That's what makes it worth while--I'm doing something that +nobody else from Nazareth, Maine, to Walla Walla, Washington, has +ever thought of. It's a new field, but by the bones of Whitman it's +worth while. That's what this country needs--more books!" + +He laughed at his own vehemence. "Do you know, it's comical," he +said. "Even the publishers, the fellows that print the books, +can't see what I'm doing for them. Some of 'em refuse me credit +because I sell their books for what they're worth instead of +for the prices they mark on them. They write me letters about +price-maintenance--and I write back about merit-maintenance. +Publish a good book and I'll get a good price for it, Say I! +Sometimes I think the publishers know less about books than any +one else! I guess that's natural, though. Most school teachers +don't know much about children." + +"The best of it is," he went on, "I have such a darn good time. +Peg and Bock (that's the dog) and I go loafing along the road on +a warm summer day, and by and by we'll fetch up alongside some +boarding-house and there are the boarders all rocking off their +lunch on the veranda. Most of 'em bored to death--nothing good to +read, nothing to do but sit and watch the flies buzzing in the sun +and the chickens rubbing up and down in the dust. First thing you +know I'll sell half a dozen books that put the love of life into +them, and they don't forget Parnassus in a hurry. Take O. Henry, for +instance--there isn't anybody so dog-gone sleepy that he won't enjoy +that man's stories. He understood life, you bet, and he could write +it down with all its little twists. I've spent an evening reading O. +Henry and Wilkie Collins to people and had them buy out all their +books I had and clamour for more." + +"What do you do in winter?" I asked--a practical question, as most +of mine are. + +"That depends on where I am when bad weather sets in," said Mr. +Mifflin. "Two winters I was down south and managed to keep Parnassus +going all through the season. Otherwise, I just lay up wherever I +am. I've never found it hard to get lodging for Peg and a job for +myself, if I had to have them. Last winter I worked in a bookstore +in Boston. Winter before, I was in a country drugstore down in +Pennsylvania. Winter before that, I tutored a couple of small boys +in English literature. Winter before that, I was a steward on a +steamer; you see how it goes. I've had a fairly miscellaneous +experience. As far as I can see, a man who's fond of books never +need starve! But this winter I'm planing to live with my brother in +Brooklyn and slog away at my book. Lord, how I've pondered over that +thing! Long summer afternoons I've sat here, jogging along in the +dust, thinking it out until it seemed as if my forehead would burst. +You see, my idea is that the common people--in the country, that +is--never have had any chance to get hold of books, and never have +had any one to explain what books can mean. It's all right for +college presidents to draw up their five-foot shelves of great +literature, and for the publishers to advertise sets of their +Linoleum Classics, but what the people need is the good, homely, +honest stuff--something that'll stick to their ribs--make them laugh +and tremble and feel sick to think of the littleness of this popcorn +ball spinning in space without ever even getting a hot-box! And +something that'll spur 'em on to keep the hearth well swept and the +wood pile split into kindling and the dishes washed and dried and +put away. Any one who can get the country people to read something +worth while is doing his nation a real service. And that's what +this caravan of culture aspires to.... You must be weary of this +harangue! Does the Sage of Redfield ever run on like that?" + +"Not to me," I said. "He's known me so long that he thinks of me as +a kind of animated bread-baking and cake-mixing machine. I guess he +doesn't put much stock in my judgment in literary matters. But he +puts his digestion in my hands without reserve. There's Mason's +farm over there. I guess we'd better sell them some books--hadn't +we? Just for a starter." + +We turned into the lane that runs up to the Mason farmhouse. Bock +trotted on ahead--very stiff on his legs and his tail gently +wagging--to interview the mastiff, and Mrs. Mason who was sitting +on the porch, peeling potatoes, laid down the pan. She's a big, +buxom woman with jolly, brown eyes like a cow's. + +"For heaven's sake, Miss McGill," she called out in a cheerful +voice--"I'm glad to see you. Got a lift, did you?" + +She hadn't really noticed the inscription on Parnassus, and thought +it was a regular huckster's wagon. + +"Well, Mrs. Mason," I said, "I've gone into the book business. This +is Mr. Mifflin. I've bought out his stock. We've come to sell you +some books." + +She laughed. "Go on, Helen," she said, "you can't kid me! I bought +a whole set of books last year from an agent--'The World's Great +Funeral Orations'--twenty volumes. Sam and I ain't read more'n the +first volume yet. It's awful uneasy reading!" + +Mifflin jumped down, and raised the side flap of the wagon. Mrs. +Mason came closer. I was tickled to see how the little man perked +up at the sight of a customer. Evidently selling books was meat +and drink to him. + +"Madam," he said, "'Funeral Orations' (bound in sackcloth, I +suppose?) have their place, but Miss McGill and I have got some real +books here to which I invite your attention. Winter will be here +soon, and you will need something more cheerful to beguile your +evenings. Very possibly you have growing children who would profit +by a good book or two. A book of fairy tales for the little girl I +see on the porch? Or stories of inventors for that boy who is about +to break his neck jumping from the barn loft? Or a book about road +making for your husband? Surely there is something here you need? +Miss McGill probably knows your tastes." + +That little red-bearded man was surely a born salesman. How he +guessed that Mr. Mason was the road commissioner in our township, +goodness only knows. Perhaps it was just a lucky shot. By this +time most of the family had gathered around the van, and I saw Mr. +Mason coming from the barn with his twelve-year-old Billy. + +"Sam," shouted Mrs. Mason, "here's Miss McGill turned book pedlar +and got a preacher with her!" + +"Hello, Miss McGill," said Mr. Mason. He is a big, slow-moving man +of great gravity and solidity. "Where's Andrew?" + +"Andrew's coming home for roast pork and apple sauce," I said, "and +I'm going off to sell books for a living. Mr. Mifflin here is +teaching me how. We've got a book on road mending that's just what +you need." + +I saw Mr. and Mrs. Mason exchange glances. Evidently they thought me +crazy. I began to wonder whether we had made a mistake in calling on +people I knew so well. The situation was a trifle embarrassing. + +Mr. Mifflin came to the rescue. + +"Don't be alarmed, sir," he said to Mr. Mason. "I haven't kidnapped +Miss McGill." (As he is about half my size this was amusing.) "We +are trying to increase her brother's income by selling his books for +him. As a matter of fact, we have a wager with him that we can sell +fifty copies of 'Happiness and Hayseed' before Hallowe'en. Now I'm +sure your sporting instinct will assist us by taking at least one +copy. Andrew McGill is probably the greatest author in this State, +and every taxpayer ought to possess his books. May I show you a +copy?" + +"That sounds reasonable," said Mr. Mason, and he almost smiled. +"What do you say, Emma, think we better buy a book or two? You know +those 'Funeral Orations.'..." "Well," said Emma, "you know we've +always said we ought to read one of Andrew McGill's books but we +didn't rightly know how to get hold of one. That fellow that sold us +the funeral speeches didn't seem to know about 'em. I tell you what, +you folks better stop and have dinner with us and you can tell us +what we'd ought to buy. I'm just ready to put the potatoes on the +stove now." + +I must confess that the prospect of sitting down to a meal I hadn't +cooked myself appealed to me strongly; and I was keen to see what +kind of grub Mrs. Mason provided for her house-hold; but I was +afraid that if we dallied there too long Andrew would be after us. I +was about to say that we would have to be getting on, and couldn't +stay; but apparently the zest of expounding his philosophy to new +listeners was too much for Mifflin. I heard him saying: + +"That's mighty kind of you, Mrs. Mason, and we'd like very much to +stay. Perhaps I can put Peg up in your barn for a while. Then we can +tell you all about our books." And to my amazement I found myself +chiming in with assent. + +Mifflin certainly surpassed himself at dinner. The fact that +Mrs. Mason's hot biscuits tasted of saleratus gave me far less +satisfaction than it otherwise would, because I was absorbed in +listening to the little vagabond's talk. Mr. Mason came to the table +grumbling something about his telephone being out of order--(I +wondered whether he had been trying to get Andrew on the wire; he +was a little afraid that I was being run away with, I think)--but +he was soon won over by the current of the little man's cheery wit. +Nothing daunted Mifflin. He talked to the old grandmother about +quilts; offered to cut off a strip of his necktie for her new +patchwork; and told all about the illustrated book on quilts that he +had in the van. He discussed cookery and the Bible with Mrs. Mason; +and she being a leading light in the Greenbriar Sunday School, was +pleasantly scandalized by his account of the best detective stories +in the Old Testament. With Mr. Mason he was all scientific farming, +chemical manures, macadam roads, and crop rotation; and to little +Billy (who sat next him) he told extraordinary yarns about Daniel +Boone, Davy Crockett, Kit Carson, Buffalo Bill, and what not. +Honestly I was amazed at the little man. He was as genial as a +cricket on the hearth, and yet every now and then his earnestness +would break through. I don't wonder he was a success at selling +books. That man could sell clothes pins or Paris garters, I guess, +and make them seem romantic. + +"You know, Mr. Mason," he said, "you certainly owe it to these +youngsters of yours to put a few really good books into their hands. +City kids have the libraries to go to, but in the country there's +only old Doc Hostetter's Almanac and the letters written by ladies +with backache telling how Peruna did for them. Give this boy and +girl of yours a few good books and you're starting them on the +double-track, block-signal line to happiness. Now there's 'Little +Women'--that girl of yours can learn more about real girlhood and +fine womanhood out of that book than from a year's paper dolls in +the attic." + +"That's right, Pa," assented Mrs. Mason. ("Go on with your meal, +Professor, the meat'll be cold.") She was completely won by the +travelling bookseller, and had given him the highest title of honour +in her ken. "Why, I read that story when I was a girl, and I still +remember it. That's better readin' for Dorothy than those funeral +speeches, I reckon. I believe the Professor's right: we'd ought to +have more books laying around. Seems kind of a shame, with a famous +author at the next farm, not to read more, don't it, now?" + +So by the time we got down to Mrs. Mason's squash pie (good pie, +too, I admit, but her hand is a little heavy for pastry), the whole +household was enthusiastic about books, and the atmosphere was +literary enough for even Dr. Eliot to live in without panting. Mrs. +Mason opened up her parlour and we sat there while Mifflin recited +"The Revenge" and "Maud Muller." + +"Well, now, ain't that real sweet!" said Emma Mason. "It's +surprising how those words rhyme so nicely. Seems almost as though +it was done a-purpose! Reminds me of piece day at school. There +was a mighty pretty piece I learned called the 'Wreck of the +Asperus.'" And she subsided into a genteel melancholy. + +I saw that Mr. Mifflin was well astride his hobby: he had started to +tell the children about Robin Hood, but I had the sense to give him +a wink. We had to be getting along or surely Andrew might be on us. +So while Mifflin was putting Pegasus into the shafts again I picked +out seven or eight books that I thought would fit the needs of the +Masons. Mr. Mason insisted that "Happiness and Hayseed" be included +among them, and gave me a crisp five-dollar bill, refusing any +change. "No, no," he said, "I've had more fun than I get at a grange +meeting. Come round again, Miss McGill; I'm going to tell Andrew +what a good show this travelling theayter of yours gives! And you, +Professor, any time you're here about road-mending season, stop in +an' tell me some more good advice. Well, I must get back to the +field." + +Bock fell in under the van, and we creaked off down the lane. +Mifflin filled his pipe and was chuckling to himself. I was a little +worried now for fear Andrew might overtake us. + +"It's a wonder Sam Mason didn't call up Andrew," I said. "It must +have looked mighty queer to him for an old farm hand like me to be +around, peddling books." + +"He would have done it straight off," said Mifflin, "but you see, I +cut his telephone wire!" + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +I gazed in astonishment at the wizened little rogue. Here was a +new side to the amiable idealist! Apparently there was a streak of +fearless deviltry in him besides his gentle love of books. I'm bound +to say that now, for the first time, I really admired him. I had +burnt my own very respectable boats behind me, and I rather enjoyed +knowing that he, too, could act briskly in a pinch. + +"Well!" I said. "You are a cool hand! It's a good job for you that +you didn't stay a schoolmaster. You might have taught your pupils +some fine deviltries! And at your age, too!" + +I'm afraid my raillery goes a little too far sometimes. He flushed +a bit at my reference to his age, and puffed sharply at his pipe. + +"I say," he rejoined, "how old do you think I am, anyway? Only +forty-one, by the bones of Byron! Henry VIII was only forty-one +when he married Anne Boleyn. There are many consolations in history +for people over forty! Remember that when you get there. + +"Shakespeare wrote 'King Lear' at forty-one," he added, more +humorously; and then burst out laughing. "I'd like to edit a series +of 'Chloroform Classics,' to include only books written after forty. +Who was that doctor man who recommended anaesthetics for us at that +age? Now isn't that just like a medico? Nurse us through the +diseases of childhood, and as soon as we settle down into permanent +good health and worldly wisdom, and freedom from doctors' fees, why +he loses interest in us! Jove! I must note that down and bring it +into my book." + +He pulled out a memorandum book and jotted down "Chloroform +Classics" in a small, neat hand. + +"Well," I said (I felt a little contrite, as I was sincerely +sorry to have offended him), "I've passed forty myself in some +measurements, so youth no longer has any terrors for me." + +He looked at me rather comically. + +"My dear madam," he said, "your age is precisely eighteen. I think +that if we escape the clutches of the Sage of Redfield you may +really begin to live." + +"Oh, Andrew's not a bad sort," I said. "He's absentminded, and hot +tempered, and a little selfish. The publishers have done their best +to spoil him, but for a literary man I guess he's quite human. He +rescued me from being a governess, and that's to his credit. If only +he didn't take his meals quite so much as a matter of course...." + +"The preposterous thing about him is that he really can _write_," +said Mifflin. "I envy him that. Don't let him know I said so, but +as a matter of fact his prose is almost as good as Thoreau. He +approaches facts as daintily as a cat crossing a wet road." + +"You should see him at dinner," I thought; or rather I meant to +think it, but the words slipped out. I found myself thinking aloud +in a rather disconcerting way while sitting with this strange +little person. + +He looked at me. I noticed for the first time that his eyes were +slate blue, with funny birds' foot wrinkles at the corners. + +"That's so," he said. "I never thought of that. A fine prose style +certainly presupposes sound nourishment. Excellent point that... +And yet Thoreau did his own cooking. A sort of Boy Scout I guess, +with a badge as kitchen master. Perhaps he took Beechnut bacon with +him into the woods. I wonder who cooked for Stevenson--Cummy? The +'Child's Garden of Verses' was really a kind of kitchen garden, +wasn't it? I'm afraid the commissariat problem has weighed rather +heavily on you. I'm glad you've got away from it." + +All this was getting rather intricate for me. I set it down as I +remember it, inaccurately perhaps. My governess days are pretty +far astern now, and my line is common sense rather than literary +allusions. I said something of the sort. + +"Common sense?" he repeated. "Good Lord, ma'am, sense is the most +uncommon thing in the world. I haven't got it. I don't believe your +brother has, from what you say. Bock here has it. See how he trots +along the road, keeps an eye on the scenery, and minds his own +business. I never saw him get into a fight yet. Wish I could say the +same of myself. I named him after Boccaccio, to remind me to read +the 'Decameron' some day." + +"Judging by the way you talk," I said, "you ought to be quite a +writer yourself." + +"Talkers never write. They go on talking." + +There was a considerable silence. Mifflin relit his pipe and watched +the landscape with a shrewd eye. I held the reins loosely, and Peg +ambled along with a steady clop-clop. Parnassus creaked musically, +and the mid-afternoon sun lay rich across the road. We passed +another farm, but I did not suggest stopping as I felt we ought to +push on. Mifflin seemed lost in meditation, and I began to wonder, +a little uneasily, how the adventure would turn out. This quaintly +masterful little man was a trifle disconcerting. Across the next +ridge I could see the Greenbriar church spire shining white. + +"Do you know this part of the country?" I asked finally. + +"Not this exact section. I've been in Port Vigor often, but then I +was on the road that runs along the Sound. I suppose this village +ahead is Greenbriar?" + +"Yes," I said. "It's about thirteen miles from there to Port Vigor. +How do you expect to get back to Brooklyn?" + +"Oh, Brooklyn?" he said vaguely. "Yes, I'd forgotten about Brooklyn +for the minute. I was thinking of my book. Why, I guess I'll take +the train from Port Vigor. The trouble is, you can never get to +Brooklyn without going through New York. It's symbolic, I suppose." + +Again there was a silence. Finally he said, "Is there another town +between Greenbriar and Port Vigor?" + +"Yes, Shelby," I said. "About five miles from Greenbriar." + +"That'll be as far as you'll get to-night," he said. "I'll see you +safe to Shelby, and then make tracks for Port Vigor. I hope there's +a decent inn at Shelby where you can stop overnight." + +I hoped so, too, but I wasn't going to let him see that with the +waning afternoon my enthusiasm was a little less robust. I was +wondering what Andrew was thinking, and whether Mrs. McNally had +left things in good order. Like most Swedes she had to be watched or +she left her work only three quarters done. And I didn't depend any +too much on her daughter Rosie to do the housework efficiently. I +wondered what kind of meals Andrew would get. And probably he would +go right on wearing his summer underclothes, although I had already +reminded him about changing. Then there were the chickens... + +Well, the Rubicon was crossed now, and there was nothing to be done. + +To my surprise, little Redbeard had divined my anxiety. "Now don't +you worry about the Sage," he said kindly. "A man that draws his +royalties isn't going to starve. By the bones of John Murray, his +publishers can send him a cook if necessary! This is a holiday for +you, and don't you forget it." + +And with this cheering sentiment in my mind, we rolled sedately down +the hill toward Greenbriar. + +I am about as hardy as most folks, I think, but I confess I balked a +little at the idea of facing the various people I know in Greenbriar +as the owner of a bookvan and the companion of a literary huckster. +Also I recollected that if Andrew should try to trace us it would be +as well for me to keep out of sight. So after telling Mr. Mifflin +how I felt about matters I dived into the Parnassus and lay down +most comfortably on the bunk. Bock the terrier joined me, and I +rested there in great comfort of mind and body as we ambled down the +grade. The sun shone through the little skylight gilding a tin pan +that hung over the cook stove. Tacked here and there were portraits +of authors, and I noticed a faded newspaper cutting pinned up. The +headlines ran: "Literary Pedlar Lectures on Poetry." I read it +through. Apparently the Professor (so I had begun to call him, as +the aptness of the nickname stuck in my mind) had given a lecture +in Camden, N.J., where he had asserted that Tennyson was a greater +poet than Walt Whitman; and the boosters of the Camden poet had +enlivened the evening with missiles. It seems that the chief Whitman +disciple in Camden is Mr. Traubel; and Mr. Mifflin had started the +rumpus by asserting that Tennyson, too, had "Traubels of his own." +What an absurd creature the Professor was, I thought, as I lay +comfortably lulled by the rolling wheels. + +Greenbriar is a straggling little town, built around a large common +meadow. Mifflin's general plan in towns, he had told me, was to +halt Parnassus in front of the principal store or hotel, and when +a little throng had gathered he would put up the flaps of the van, +distribute his cards, and deliver a harangue on the value of good +books. I lay concealed inside, but I gathered from the sounds that +this was what was happening. We came to a stop; I heard a growing +murmur of voices and laughter outside, and then the click of the +raised sides of the wagon. I heard Mifflin's shrill, slightly nasal +voice making facetious remarks as he passed out the cards. Evidently +Bock was quite accustomed to the routine, for though his tail wagged +gently when the Professor began to talk, he lay quite peaceably +dozing at my feet. + +"My friends," said Mr. Mifflin. "You remember Abe Lincoln's joke +about the dog? If you call a tail a leg, said Abe, how many legs +has a dog? Five, you answer. No, says Abe; because calling a tail a +leg doesn't make it a leg. Well, there are lots of us in the same +case as that dog's tail. Calling us men doesn't _make_ us men. No +creature on earth has a right to think himself a human being if he +doesn't know at least one good book. The man that spends every +evening chewing Piper Heidsieck at the store is unworthy to catch +the intimations of a benevolent Creator. The man that's got a few +good books on his shelf is making his wife happy, giving his +children a square deal, and he's likely to be a better citizen +himself. How about that, parson?" + +I heard the deep voice of Reverend Kane, the Methodist minister: +"You're dead right, Professor!" he shouted. "Tell us some more about +books. I'm right with you!" Evidently Mr. Kane had been attracted +by the sight of Parnassus, and I could hear him muttering to himself +as he pulled one or two books from the shelves. How surprised he +would have been if he had known I was inside the van! I took the +precaution of slipping the bolt of the door at the back, and drew +the curtains. Then I crept back into the bunk. I began to imagine +what an absurd situation there would be if Andrew should arrive on +the scene. + +"You are all used to hucksters and pedlars and fellows selling every +kind of junk from brooms to bananas," said the Professor's voice. +"But how often does any one come round here to sell you books? +You've got your town library, I dare say; but there are some books +that folks ought to own. I've got 'em all here from Bibles to cook +books. They'll speak for themselves. Step up to the shelves, +friends, and pick and choose." + +I heard the parson asking the price of something he had found on the +shelves, and I believe he bought it; but the hum of voices around +the flanks of Parnassus was very soothing, and in spite of my +interest in what was going on I'm afraid I fell asleep. I must have +been pretty tired; anyway I never felt the van start again. The +Professor says he looked in through the little window from the +driver's seat, and saw me sound asleep. And the next thing I knew I +woke up with a start to find myself rolling leisurely in the dark. +Bock was still lying over my feet, and there was a faint, musical +clang from the bucket under the van which struck against something +now and then. The Professor was sitting in front, with a lighted +lantern hanging from the peak of the van roof. He was humming some +outlandish song to himself, with a queer, monotonous refrain: + + Shipwrecked was I off Soft Perowse + And right along the shore, + And so I did resolve to roam + The country to explore. + Tommy rip fal lal and a balum tip + Tommy rip fal lal I dee; + And so I did resolve to roam + The country for to see! + +I jumped out of the bunk, cracked my shins against something, and +uttered a rousing halloo. Parnassus stopped, and the Professor +pushed back the sliding window behind the driver's seat. + +"Heavens!" I said. "Father Time, what o'clock is it?" + +"Pretty near supper time, I reckon. You must have fallen asleep +while I was taking money from the Philistines. I made nearly three +dollars for you. Let's pull up along the road and have a bite to +eat." + +He guided Pegasus to one side of the road, and then showed me how +to light the swinging lamp that hung under the skylight. "No use +to light the stove on a lovely evening like this," he said. "I'll +collect some sticks and we can cook outside. You get out your basket +of grub and I'll make a fire." He unhitched Pegasus, tied her to a +tree, and gave her a nose bag of oats. Then he rooted around for +some twigs and had a fire going in a jiffy. In five minutes I had +bacon and scrambled eggs sizzling in a frying pan, and he had +brought out a pail of water from the cooler under the bunk, and was +making tea. + +I never enjoyed a picnic so much! It was a perfect autumn evening, +windless and frosty, with a dead black sky and a tiny rim of new +moon like a thumb-nail paring. We had our eggs and bacon, washed +down with tea and condensed milk, and followed by bread and jam. +The little fire burned blue and cozy, and we sat on each side of it +while Bock scoured the pan and ate the crusts. + +"This your own bread, Miss McGill?" he asked. + +"Yes," I said. "I was calculating the other day that I've baked more +than 400 loaves a year for the last fifteen years. That's more than +6,000 loaves of bread. They can put that on my tombstone." + +"The art of baking bread is as transcendent a mystery as the art of +making sonnets," said Redbeard. "And then your hot biscuits--they +might be counted as shorter lyrics, I suppose--triolets perhaps. +That makes quite an anthology, or a doxology, if you prefer it." + +"Yeast is yeast, and West is West," I said, and was quite surprised +at my own cleverness. I hadn't made a remark like that to Andrew in +five years. + +"I see you are acquainted with Kipling," he said. + +"Oh, yes, every governess is." + +"Where and whom did you govern?" + +"I was in New York, with the family of a wealthy stockbroker. There +were three children. I used to take them walking in Central Park." + +"Did you ever go to Brooklyn?" he asked abruptly. + +"Never," I replied. + +"Ah!" he said. "That's just the trouble. New York is Babylon; +Brooklyn is the true Holy City. New York is the city of envy, office +work, and hustle; Brooklyn is the region of homes and happiness. It +is extraordinary: poor, harassed New Yorkers presume to look down on +low-lying, home-loving Brooklyn, when as a matter of fact it is the +precious jewel their souls are thirsting for and they never know it. +Broadway: think how symbolic the name is. Broad is the way that +leadeth to destruction! But in Brooklyn the ways are narrow, and +they lead to the Heavenly City of content. Central Park: there you +are--the centre of things, hemmed in by walls of pride. Now how +much better is Prospect Park, giving a fair view over the hills of +humility! There is no hope for New Yorkers, for they glory in their +skyscraping sins; but in Brooklyn there is the wisdom of the lowly." + +"So you think that if I had been a governess in Brooklyn I should +have been so contented that I would never have come with Andrew +and compiled my anthology of 6,000 loaves of bread and the lesser +lyrics?" + +But the volatile Professor had already soared to other points of +view, and was not to be thwarted by argument. + +"Of course Brooklyn is a dingy place, really," he admitted. "But to +me it symbolizes a state of mind, whereas New York is only a state +of pocket. You see I was a boy in Brooklyn: it still trails clouds +of glory for me. When I get back there and start work on my book +I shall be as happy as Nebuchadnezzar when he left off grass and +returned to tea and crumpets. 'Literature Among the Farmers' I'm +going to call it, but that's a poor title. I'd like to read you some +of my notes for it." + +I'm afraid I poorly concealed a yawn. As a matter of fact I was +sleepy, and it was growing chilly. + +"Tell me first," I said, "where in the world are we, and what time +is it?" + +He pulled out a turnip watch. "It's nine o'clock," he said, "and +we're about two miles from Shelby, I should reckon. Perhaps we'd +better get along. They told me in Greenbriar that the Grand Central +Hotel in Shelby is a good place to stop at. That's why I wasn't +anxious to get there. It sounds so darned like New York." + +He bundled the cooking utensils back into Parnassus, hitched Peg up +again, and tied Bock to the stern of the van. Then he insisted on +giving me the two dollars and eighty cents he had collected in +Greenbriar. I was really too sleepy to protest, and of course it was +mine anyway. We creaked off along the dark and silent road between +the pine woods. I think he talked fluently about his pilgrim's +progress among the farmers of a dozen states, but (to be honest) +I fell asleep in my corner of the seat. I woke up when we halted +before the one hotel in Shelby--a plain, unimposing country inn, +despite its absurd name. I left him to put Parnassus and the animals +away for the night, while I engaged a room. Just as I got my key +from the clerk he came into the dingy lobby. + +"Well, Mr. Mifflin," I said. "Shall I see you in the morning?" + +"I had intended to push on to Port Vigor to-night," he said, "but as +it's fully eight miles (they tell me), I guess I'll bivouac here. I +think I'll go into the smoking-room and put them wise to some good +books. We won't say good-bye till to-morrow." + +My room was pleasant and clean (fairly so). I took my suit case up +with me and had a hot bath. As I fell asleep I heard a shrill voice +ascending from below, punctuated with masculine laughter. The +Pilgrim was making more converts! + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +I had a curious feeling of bewilderment when I woke the next +morning. The bare room with the red-and-blue rag carpet and green +china toilet set was utterly strange. In the hall outside I heard a +clock strike. "Heavens!" I thought, "I've overslept myself nearly +two hours. What on earth will Andrew do for breakfast?" And then +as I ran to close the window I saw the blue Parnassus with its +startling red letters standing in the yard. Instantly I remembered. +And discreetly peeping from behind the window shade I saw that the +Professor, armed with a tin of paint, was blotting out his own name +on the side of the van, evidently intending to substitute mine. That +was something I had not thought of. However, I might as well make +the best of it. + +I dressed promptly, repacked my bag, and hurried downstairs for +breakfast. The long table was nearly empty, but one or two men +sitting at the other end eyed me curiously. Through the window I +could see my name in large, red letters, growing on the side of the +van, as the Professor diligently wielded his brush. And when I had +finished my coffee and beans and bacon I noticed with some amusement +that the Professor had painted out the line about Shakespeare, +Charles Lamb, and so on, and had substituted new lettering. The +sign now read: + + H. MCGILL'S + TRAVELLING PARNASSUS + GOOD BOOKS FOR SALE + COOK BOOKS A SPECIALTY + INQUIRE WITHIN + +Evidently he distrusted my familiarity with the classics. + +I paid my bill at the desk, and was careful also to pay the charge +for putting up the horse and van overnight. Then I strolled into the +stable yard, where I found Mr. Mifflin regarding his handiwork with +satisfaction. He had freshened up all the red lettering, which shone +brilliantly in the morning sunlight. + +"Good-morning," I said. + +He returned it. + +"There!" he cried--"Parnassus is really yours! All the world lies +before you! And I've got some more money for you. I sold some books +last night. I persuaded the hotel keeper to buy several volumes of +O. Henry for his smoking-room shelf, and I sold the 'Waldorf Cook +Book' to the cook. My! wasn't her coffee awful? I hope the cook book +will better it." + +He handed me two limp bills and a handful of small change. I took it +gravely and put it in my purse. This was really not bad--more than +ten dollars in less than twenty-four hours. + +"Parnassus seems to be a gold mine," I said. + +"Which way do you think you'll go?" he asked. + +"Well, as I know you want to get to Port Vigor I might just as well +give you a lift that way," I answered. + +"Good! I was hoping you'd say that. They tell me the stage for Port +Vigor doesn't leave till noon, and I think it would kill me to hang +around here all morning with no books to sell. Once I get on the +train I'll be all right." + +Bock was tied up in a corner of the yard, under the side door of the +hotel. I went over to release him while the Professor was putting +Peg into harness. As I stooped to unfasten the chain from his collar +I heard some one talking through the telephone. The hotel lobby was +just over my head, and the window was open. + +"What did you say?" + +"---- ---- ---- ----" + +"McGill? Yes, sir, registered here last night. She's here now." + +I didn't wait to hear more. Unfastening Bock, I hurried to tell +Mifflin. His eyes sparkled. + +"The Sage is evidently on our spoor," he chuckled. "Well, let's be +off. I don't see what he can do even if he overhauls us." + +The clerk was calling me from the window: "Miss McGill, your +brother's on the wire and asks to speak to you." + +"Tell him I'm busy," I retorted, and climbed onto the seat. It was +not a diplomatic reply, I'm afraid, but I was too exhilarated by +the keen morning and the spirit of adventure to stop to think of a +better answer. Mifflin clucked to Peg, and off we went. + +The road from Shelby to Port Vigor runs across the broad hill slopes +that trend toward the Sound; and below, on our left, the river lay +glittering in the valley. It was a perfect landscape: the woods +were all bronze and gold; the clouds were snowy white and seemed +like heavenly washing hung out to air; the sun was warm and swam +gloriously in an arch of superb blue. My heart was uplifted indeed. +For the first time, I think, I knew how Andrew feels on those +vagabond trips of his. Why had all this been hidden from me before? +Why had the transcendent mystery of baking bread blinded me so long +to the mysteries of sun and sky and wind in the trees? We passed a +white farmhouse close to the road. By the gate sat the farmer on a +log, whittling a stick and smoking his pipe. Through the kitchen +window I could see a woman blacking the stove. I wanted to cry out: +"Oh, silly woman! Leave your stove, your pots and pans and chores, +even if only for one day! Come out and see the sun in the sky and +the river in the distance!" The farmer looked blankly at Parnassus +as we passed, and then I remembered my mission as a distributor +of literature. Mifflin was sitting with one foot on his bulging +portmanteau, watching the tree tops rocking in the cool wind. He +seemed to be far away in a morning muse. I threw down the reins and +accosted the farmer. + +"Good-morning, friend." + +"Morning to you, ma'am," he said firmly. + +"I'm selling books," I said. "I wonder if there isn't something you +need?" + +"Thanks, lady," he said, "but I bought a mort o' books last year an' +I don't believe I'll ever read 'em this side Jordan. A whole set o' +'Funereal Orations' what an agent left on me at a dollar a month. I +could qualify as earnest mourner at any death-bed merrymakin' now, I +reckon." + +"You need some books to teach you how to live, not how to die," I +said. "How about your wife--wouldn't she enjoy a good book? How +about some fairy tales for the children?" + +"Bless me," he said, "I ain't got a wife. I never was a daring man, +and I guess I'll confine my melancholy pleasures to them funereal +orators for some time yet." + +"Well, now, hold on a minute!" I exclaimed. "I've got just the thing +for you." I had been looking over the shelves with some care, and +remembered seeing a copy of "Reveries of a Bachelor." I clambered +down, raised the flap of the van (it gave me quite a thrill to do it +myself for the first time), and hunted out the book. I looked inside +the cover and saw the letters _n m_ in Mifflin's neat hand. + +"Here you are," I said. "I'll sell you that for thirty cents." + +"Thank you kindly, ma'am," he said courteously. "But honestly I +wouldn't know what to do with it. I am working through a government +report on scabworm and fungus, and I sandwich in a little of them +funereal speeches with it, and honestly that's about all the readin' +I figure on. That an' the Port Vigor Clarion." + +I saw that he really meant it, so I climbed back on the seat. I +would have liked to talk to the woman in the kitchen who was peering +out of the window in amazement, but I decided it would be better to +jog on and not waste time. The farmer and I exchanged friendly +salutes, and Parnassus rumbled on. + +The morning was so lovely that I did not feel talkative, and as the +Professor seemed pensive I said nothing. But as Peg plodded slowly +up a gentle slope he suddenly pulled a book out of his pocket and +began to read aloud. I was watching the river, and did not turn +round, but listened carefully: + + +"Rolling cloud, volleying wind, and wheeling sun--the blue +tabernacle of sky, the circle of the seasons, the sparkling +multitude of the stars--all these are surely part of one rhythmic, +mystic whole. Everywhere, as we go about our small business, we +must discern the fingerprints of the gigantic plan, the orderly and +inexorable routine with neither beginning nor end, in which death +is but a preface to another birth, and birth the certain forerunner +of another death. We human beings are as powerless to conceive the +motive or the moral of it all as the dog is powerless to understand +the reasoning in his master's mind. He sees the master's acts, +benevolent or malevolent, and wags his tail. But the master's acts +are always inscrutable to him. And so with us. + +"And therefore, brethren, let us take the road with a light heart. +Let us praise the bronze of the leaves and the crash of the surf +while we have eyes to see and ears to hear. An honest amazement at +the unspeakable beauties of the world is a comely posture for the +scholar. Let us all be scholars under Mother Nature's eye. + + +"How do you like that?" he asked. + +"A little heavy, but very good," I said. "There's nothing in it +about the transcendent mystery of baking bread!" + +He looked rather blank. + +"Do you know who wrote it?" he asked. + +I made a valiant effort to summon some of my governessly +recollections of literature. + +"I give it up," I said feebly. "Is it Carlyle?" + +"That is by Andrew McGill," he said. "One of his cosmic passages +which are now beginning to be reprinted in schoolbooks. The blighter +writes well." + +I began to be uneasy lest I should be put through a literary +catechism, so I said nothing, but roused Peg into an amble. To tell +the truth I was more curious to hear the Professor talk about his +own book than about Andrew's. I had always carefully refrained from +reading Andrew's stuff, as I thought it rather dull. + +"As for me," said the Professor, "I have no facility at the grand +style. I have always suffered from the feeling that it's better to +read a good book than to write a poor one; and I've done so much +mixed reading in my time that my mind is full of echoes and voices +of better men. But this book I'm worrying about now really deserves +to be written, I think, for it has a message of its own." + +He gazed almost wistfully across the sunny valley. In the distance +I caught a glint of the Sound. The Professor's faded tweed cap was +slanted over one ear, and his stubby little beard shone bright red +in the sun. I kept a sympathetic silence. He seemed pleased to have +some one to talk to about his precious book. + +"The world is full of great writers about literature," he said, +"but they're all selfish and aristocratic. Addison, Lamb, Hazlitt, +Emerson, Lowell--take any one you choose--they all conceive the love +of books as a rare and perfect mystery for the few--a thing of the +secluded study where they can sit alone at night with a candle, +and a cigar, and a glass of port on the table and a spaniel on the +hearthrug. What I say is, who has ever gone out into high roads and +hedges to bring literature home to the plain man? To bring it home +to his business and bosom, as somebody says? The farther into the +country you go, the fewer and worse books you find. I've spent +several years joggling around with this citadel of crime, and by +the bones of Ben Ezra I don't think I ever found a really good book +(except the Bible) at a farmhouse yet, unless I put it there myself. +The mandarins of culture--what do they do to teach the common folk +to read? It's no good writing down lists of books for farmers and +compiling five-foot shelves; you've got to go out and visit the +people yourself--take the books to them, talk to the teachers and +bully the editors of country newspapers and farm magazines and tell +the children stories--and then little by little you begin to get +good books circulating in the veins of the nation. It's a great +work, mind you! It's like carrying the Holy Grail to some of these +way-back farmhouses. And I wish there were a thousand Parnassuses +instead of this one. I'd never give it up if it weren't for my book: +but I want to write about my ideas in the hope of stirring other +folk up, too. I don't suppose there's a publisher in the country +will take it!" + +"Try Mr. Decameron," I said. "He's always been very nice to Andrew." + +"Think what it would mean," he cried, waving an eloquent hand, "if +some rich man would start a fund to equip a hundred or so wagons +like this to go huckstering literature around through the rural +districts. It would pay, too, once you got started. Yes, by the +bones of Webster! I went to a meeting of booksellers once, at some +hotel in New York, and told 'em about my scheme. They laughed at me. +But I've had more fun toting books around in this Parnassus than I +could have had in fifty years sitting in a bookstore, or teaching +school, or preaching. Life's full of savour when you go creaking +along the road like this. Look at today, with the sun and the air +and the silver clouds. Best of all, though, I love the rainy days. I +used to pull up alongside the road, throw a rubber blanket over Peg, +and Bock and I would curl up in the bunk and smoke and read. I used +to read aloud to Bock: we went through 'Midshipman Easy' together, +and a good deal of Shakespeare. He's a very bookish dog. We've seen +some queer experiences in this Parnassus." + +The hill road from Shelby to Port Vigor is a lonely one, as most +of the farmhouses lie down in the valley. If I had known better we +might have taken the longer and more populous way, but as a matter +of fact I was enjoying the wide view and the solitary road lying +white in the sunshine. We jogged along very pleasantly. Once more we +stopped at a house where Mifflin pleaded for a chance to exercise +his art. I was much amused when he succeeded in selling a copy of +"Grimm's Fairy Tales" to a shrewish spinster on the plea that she +would enjoy reading the stories to her nephews and nieces who were +coming to visit her. + +"My!" he chuckled, as he gave me the dingy quarter he had extracted. +"There's nothing in that book as grim as she is!" + +A little farther on we halted by a roadside spring to give Peg a +drink, and I suggested lunch. I had laid in some bread and cheese in +Shelby, and with this and some jam we made excellent sandwiches. As +we were sitting by the fence the motor stage trundled past on its +way to Port Vigor. A little distance down the road it halted, and +then went on again. I saw a familiar figure walking back toward us. + +"Now I'm in for it," I said to the Professor. "Here's Andrew!" + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + + +Andrew is just as thin as I am fat, and his clothes hang on him in +the most comical way. He is very tall and shambling, wears a ragged +beard and a broad Stetson hat, and suffers amazingly from hay fever +in the autumn. (In fact, his essay on "Hay Fever" is the best thing +he ever wrote, I think.) As he came striding up the road I noticed +how his trousers fluttered at the ankles as the wind plucked at +them. The breeze curled his beard back under his chin and his face +was quite dark with anger. I couldn't help being amused; he looked +so funny. + +"The Sage looks like Bernard Shaw," whispered Mifflin. + +I always believe in drawing first blood. + +"Good-morning, Andrew," I called cheerfully. "Want to buy any +books?" I halted Pegasus, and Andrew stood a little in front of +the wheel--partly out of breath and mostly out of temper. + +"What on earth is this nonsense, Helen?" he said angrily. "You've +led me the deuce of a chase since yesterday. And who is this--this +person you're driving with?" + +"Andrew," I said, "you forget your manners. Let me introduce Mr. +Mifflin. I have bought his caravan and am taking a holiday, selling +books. Mr. Mifflin is on his way to Port Vigor where he takes the +train to Brooklyn." + +Andrew stared at the Professor without speaking. I could tell by the +blaze in his light-blue eyes that he was thoroughly angry, and I +feared things would be worse before they were better. Andrew is slow +to wrath, but a very hard person to deal with when roused. And I had +some inkling by this time of the Professor's temperament. Moreover, +I am afraid that some of my remarks had rather prejudiced him +against Andrew, as a brother at any rate and apart from his +excellent prose. + +Mifflin had the next word. He had taken off his funny little cap, +and his bare skull shone like an egg. I noticed a little sort of +fairy ring of tiny drops around his crown. + +"My dear sir," said Mifflin, "the proceedings look somewhat unusual, +but the facts are simple to narrate. Your sister has bought this van +and its contents, and I have been instructing her in my theories of +the dissemination of good books. You as a literary man..." + +Andrew paid absolutely no attention to the Professor, and I saw a +slow flush tinge Mifflin's sallow cheek. + +"Look here, Helen," said Andrew, "do you think I propose to have my +sister careering around the State with a strolling vagabond? Upon my +soul you ought to have better sense--and at your age and weight! I +got home yesterday and found your ridiculous note. I went to Mrs. +Collins, and she knew nothing. I went to Mason's, and found him +wondering who had bilked his telephone. I suppose you did that. He +had seen this freight car of yours and put me on the track. But my +God! I never thought to see a woman of forty abducted by gypsies!" + +Mifflin was about to speak but I waved him back. + +"Now see here Andrew," I said, "you talk too quickly. A woman of +forty (you exaggerate, by the way) who has compiled an anthology +of 6,000 loaves of bread and dedicated it to you deserves some +courtesy. When _you_ want to run off on some vagabond tour or other +you don't hesitate to do it. You expect me to stay home and do +the Lady Eglantine in the poultry yard. By the ghost of Susan B. +Anthony, I won't do it! This is the first real holiday I've had in +fifteen years, and I'm going to suit myself." + +Andrew's mouth opened, but I shook my fist so convincingly that he +halted. + +"I bought this Parnassus from Mr. Mifflin fair and square for four +hundred dollars. That's the price of about thirteen hundred dozen +eggs," I said. (I had worked this out in my head while Mifflin was +talking about his book.) + +"The money's mine, and I'm going to use it my own way. Now, Andrew +McGill, if you want to buy any books, you can parley with me. +Otherwise, I'm on my way. You can expect me back when you see me." +I handed him one of Mifflin's little cards, which were in a pocket +at the side of the van, and gathered up the reins. I was really +angry, for Andrew had been both unreasonable and insulting. + +Andrew looked at the card, and tore it in halves. He looked at the +side of Parnassus where the fresh red lettering was still damp. + +"Well, upon my word," he said, "you must be crazy." He burst into a +violent fit of sneezing--a last touch of hay fever, I suspect, as +there was still goldenrod in the meadows. He coughed and sneezed +furiously, which made him madder than ever. At last he turned to +Mifflin who was sitting bald-headed with a flushed face and very +bright eyes. Andrew took him all in, the shabby Norfolk jacket, the +bulging memorandum book in his pocket, the stuffed portmanteau under +his foot, even the copy of "Happiness and Hayseed" which had dropped +to the floor and lay back up. + +"Look here, you," said Andrew, "I don't know by what infernal arts +you cajoled my sister away to go vagabonding in a huckster's wagon, +but I know this, that if you've cheated her out of her money I'll +have the law on you." + +I tried to insert a word of protest, but matters had gone too far. +The Professor was as mad as Andrew now. + +"By the bones of Piers Plowman," he said, "I had expected to meet a +man of letters and the author of this book"--he held up "Happiness +and Hayseed"--"but I see I was mistaken. I tell you, sir, a man who +would insult his sister before a stranger, as you have done, is an +oaf and a cad." He threw the book over the hedge, and before I could +say a word he had vaulted over the off wheel and ran round behind +the van. + +"Look here sir," he said, with his little red beard bristling, "your +sister is over age and acting of her own free will. By the bones of +the Baptist, I don't blame her for wanting a vacation if this is the +way you treat her. She is nothing to me, sir, and I am nothing to +her, but I propose to be a teacher to you. Put up your hands and +I'll give you a lesson!" + +This was too much for me. I believe I screamed aloud, and started +to clamber from the van. But before I could do anything the two +fanatics had begun to pummel each other. I saw Andrew swing savagely +at Mifflin, and Mifflin hit him square on the chin. Andrew's hat +fell on the road. Peg stood placidly, and Bock made as if to grab +Andrew's leg, but I hopped out and seized him. + +It was certainly a weird sight. I suppose I should have wrung my +hands and had hysterics, but as a matter of fact I was almost +amused, it was so silly. Thank goodness the road was deserted. + +Andrew was a foot taller than the Professor, but awkward, loosely +knit, and unmuscular, while the little Redbeard was wiry as a cat. +Also Andrew was so furious that he was quite beside himself, and +Mifflin was in the cold anger that always wins. Andrew landed a +couple of flailing blows on the other man's chest and shoulders, +but in thirty seconds he got another punch on the chin followed by +one on the nose that tumbled him over backward. + +Andrew sat in the road fishing for a handkerchief, and Mifflin stood +glaring at him, but looking very ill at ease. Neither of them said a +word. Bock broke away from me and capered and danced about Mifflin's +feet as if it were all a game. It was an extraordinary scene. + +Andrew got up, mopping his bleeding nose. + +"Upon my soul," he said, "I almost respect you for that punch. But +by Jove I'll have the law on you for kidnapping my sister. You're a +fine kind of a pirate." + +Mifflin said nothing. + +"Don't be a fool, Andrew" I said. "Can't you see that I want a +little adventure of my own? Go home and bake six thousand loaves of +bread, and by the time they're done I'll be back again. I think two +men of your age ought to be ashamed of yourselves. I'm going off to +sell books." And with that I climbed up to the seat and clucked to +Pegasus. Andrew and Mifflin and Bock remained standing in the road. + +I was mad all the way through. I was mad at both men for behaving +like schoolboys. I was mad at Andrew for being so unreasonable, +yet in a way I admired him for it; I was mad at Mifflin for giving +Andrew a bloody nose, and yet I appreciated the spirit in which it +was done. I was mad at myself for causing all the trouble, and I was +mad at Parnassus. If there had been a convenient cliff handy I would +have pushed the old thing over it. But now I was in for it, and just +had to go on. Slowly I rolled up a long grade, and then saw Port +Vigor lying ahead and the broad blue stretches of the Sound. + +Parnassus rumbled on with its pleasant creak, and the mellow sun and +sweep of the air soon soothed me. I began to taste salt in the wind, +and above the meadows two or three seagulls were circling. Like +all women, my angry mood melted into a reaction of exaggerated +tenderness and I began to praise both Andrew and Mifflin in my +heart. How fine to have a brother so solicitous of his sister's +welfare and reputation! And yet, how splendid the little, scrawny +Professor had been! How quick to resent an insult and how bold to +avenge it! His absurd little tweed cap was lying on the seat, and I +picked it up almost sentimentally. The lining was frayed and torn. +From my suit case in the van I got out a small sewing kit, and +hanging the reins on a hook I began to stitch up the rents as +Peg jogged along. I thought with amusement of the quaint life +Mr. Mifflin had led in his "caravan of culture." I imagined him +addressing the audience of Whitman disciples in Camden, and wondered +how the fuss ended. I imagined him in his beloved Brooklyn, +strolling in Prospect Park and preaching to chance comers his gospel +of good books. How different was his militant love of literature +from Andrew's quiet satisfaction. And yet how much they really had +in common! It tickled me to think of Mifflin reading aloud from +"Happiness and Hayseed," and praising it so highly, just before +fighting with the author and giving him a bloody nose. I remembered +that I should have spoken to Andrew about feeding the hens, and +reminded him of his winter undergarments. What helpless creatures +men are, after all! + +I finished mending the cap in high good humour. + +I had hardly laid it down when I heard a quick step in the road +behind me, and looking back, there was Mifflin, striding along with +his bald pate covered with little beads of moisture. Bock trotted +sedately at his heels. I halted Peg. + +"Well," I said, "what's happened to Andrew?" + +The Professor still looked a bit shamefaced. "The Sage is a +tenacious person," he said. "We argued for a bit without much +satisfaction. As a matter of fact we nearly came to blows again, +only he got another waft of goldenrod, which started him sneezing, +and then his nose began bleeding once more. He is convinced that +I'm a ruffian, and said so in excellent prose. Honestly, I admire +him a great deal. I believe he intends to have the law on me. I +gave him my Brooklyn address in case he wants to follow the matter +up. I think I rather pleased him by asking him to autograph +'Happiness and Hayseed' for me. I found it lying in the ditch." + +"Well," I said, "you two are certainly a great pair of lunatics. You +both ought to go on the stage. You'd be as good as Weber and Fields. +Did he give you the autograph?" + +He pulled the book out of his pocket. Scrawled in it in pencil were +the words "I have shed blood for Mr. Mifflin. Andrew McGill." + +"I shall read the book again with renewed interest," said Mifflin. +"May I get in?" + +"By all means," I said. "There's Port Vigor in front of us." + +He put on his cap, noticed that it seemed to feel different, pulled +it off again, and then looked at me in a quaint embarrassment. + +"You are very good, Miss McGill," he said. + +"Where did Andrew go?" I asked. + +"He set off for Shelby on foot," Mifflin answered. "He has a grand +stride for walking. He suddenly remembered that he had left some +potatoes boiling on the fire yesterday afternoon, and said he must +get back to attend to them. He said he hoped you would send him a +postal card now and then. Do you know, he reminds me of Thoreau more +than ever." + +"He reminds me of a burnt cooking pot," I said. "I suppose all my +kitchenware will be in a horrible state when I get home." + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + + +Port Vigor is a fascinating old town. It is built on a point jutting +out into the Sound. Dimly in the distance one can see the end of +Long Island, which Mifflin viewed with sparkling eyes. It seemed to +bring him closer to Brooklyn. Several schooners were beating along +the estuary in the fresh wind, and there was a delicious tang of +brine in the air. We drove direct to the station where the Professor +alighted. We took his portmanteau, and shut Bock inside the van to +prevent the dog from following him. Then there was an awkward pause +as he stood by the wheel with his cap off. + +"Well, Miss McGill," he said, "there's an express train at five +o'clock, so with luck I shall be in Brooklyn to-night. My brother's +address is 600 Abingdon Avenue, and I hope when you're sending a +card to the Sage you'll let me have one, too. I shall be very +homesick for Parnassus, but I'd rather leave her with you than with +any one I know." + +He bowed very low, and before I could say a word he blew his nose +violently and hurried away. I saw him carrying his valise into the +station, and then he disappeared. I suppose that living alone with +Andrew for all these years has unused me to the eccentricities of +other people, but surely this little Redbeard was one of the +strangest beings one would be likely to meet. + +Bock yowled dismally inside, and I did not feel in any mood to sell +books in Port Vigor. I drove back into the town and stopped at a tea +shop for a pot of tea and some toast. When I came out I found that +quite a little crowd had collected, partly owing to the strange +appearance of Parnassus and partly because of Bock's plaintive cries +from within. Most of the onlookers seemed to suspect the outfit of +being part of a travelling menagerie, so almost against my will I +put up the flaps, tied Bock to the tail of the wagon, and began to +answer the humourous questions of the crowd. Two or three bought +books without any urging, and it was some time before I could get +away. Finally I shut up the van and pulled off, as I was afraid of +seeing some one I knew. As I turned into the Woodbridge Road I heard +the whistle of the five o'clock train to New York. + +The twenty miles of road between Sabine Farm and Port Vigor was all +familiar to me, but now to my relief I struck into a region that I +had never visited. On my occasional trips to Boston I had always +taken the train at Port Vigor, so the country roads were unknown. +But I had set out on the Woodbridge way because Mifflin had spoken +of a farmer, Mr. Pratt, who lived about four miles out of Port +Vigor, on the Woodbridge Road. Apparently Mr. Pratt had several +times bought books from the Professor and the latter had promised to +visit him again. So I felt in duty bound to oblige a good customer. + +After the varied adventures of the last two days it was almost a +relief to be alone to think things over. Here was I, Helen McGill, +in a queer case indeed. Instead of being home at Sabine Farm getting +supper, I was trundling along a strange road, the sole owner of a +Parnassus (probably the only one in existence), a horse, and a dog, +and a cartload of books on my hands. Since the morning of the day +before my whole life had twisted out of its accustomed orbit. I had +spent four hundred dollars of my savings; I had sold about thirteen +dollars' worth of books; I had precipitated a fight and met a +philosopher. Not only that, I was dimly beginning to evolve a new +philosophy of my own. And all this in order to prevent Andrew from +buying a lot more books! At any rate, I had been successful in +that. When he had seen Parnassus at last, he had hardly looked at +her--except in tones of scorn. I caught myself wondering whether the +Professor would allude to the incident in his book, and hoping that +he would send me a copy. But after all, why should he mention it? To +him it was only one of a thousand adventures. As he had said angrily +to Andrew, he was nothing to me, nor I to him. How could he realize +that this was the first adventure I had had in the fifteen years I +had been--what was it he called it?--compiling my anthology. Well, +the funny little gingersnap! + +I kept Bock tied to the back of the van, as I was afraid he might +take a notion to go in search of his master. As we jogged on, and +the falling sun cast a level light across the way, I got a bit +lonely. This solitary vagabonding business was a bit sudden after +fifteen years of home life. The road lay close to the water and I +watched the Sound grow a deeper blue and then a dull purple. I could +hear the surf pounding, and on the end of Long Island a far-away +lighthouse showed a ruby spark. I thought of the little gingersnap +roaring toward New York on the express, and wondered whether he was +travelling in a Pullman or a day coach. A Pullman chair would feel +easy after that hard Parnassus seat. + +By and by we neared a farmhouse which I took to be Mr. Pratt's. It +stood close to the road, with a big, red barn behind and a gilt +weathervane representing a galloping horse. Curiously enough Peg +seemed to recognize the place, for she turned in at the gate and +neighed vigorously. It must have been a favourite stopping place for +the Professor. + +Through a lighted window I could see people sitting around a table. +Evidently the Pratts were at supper. I drew up in the yard. Some one +looked out of a window, and I heard a girl's voice: + +"Why, Pa, here's Parnassus!" + +Gingersnap must have been a welcome visitor at that farm, for in an +instant the whole family turned out with a great scraping of chairs +and clatter of dishes. A tall, sunburnt man, in a clean shirt with +no collar, led the group, and then came a stout woman about my own +build, and a hired man and three children. + +"Good evening!" I said. "Is this Mr. Pratt?" + +"Sure thing!" said he. "Where's the Perfessor?" + +"On his way to Brooklyn," said I. "And I've got Parnassus. He told +me to be sure to call on you. So here we are." + +"Well, I want to know!" ejaculated Mrs. Pratt. "Think of Parnassus +turned suffrage! Ben, you put up the critters, and I'll take Mrs. +Mifflin in to supper." + +"Hold on there," I said. "My name's McGill--Miss McGill. See, +it's painted on the wagon. I bought the outfit from Mr. Mifflin. +A business proposition entirely." + +"Well, well," said Mr. Pratt. "We're glad to see any friend of the +Perfessor. Sorry he's not here, too. Come right in and have a bite +with us." + +They were certainly good-hearted folk, Mr. and Mrs. Ben Pratt. He +put Peg and Bock away in the barn and gave them their supper, while +Mrs. Pratt took me up to her spare bedroom and brought me a jug of +hot water. Then they all trooped back into the dining-room and the +meal began again. I am a connoisseur of farm cooking, I guess, and +I've got to hand it to Beulah Pratt that she was an A-1 housewife. +Her hot biscuit was perfect; the coffee was real Mocha, simmered, +not boiled; the cold sausage and potato salad was as good as any +Andrew ever got. And she had a smoking-hot omelet sent in for me, +and opened a pot of her own strawberry preserve. The children (two +boys and a girl) sat open-mouthed, nudging one another, and Mr. +Pratt got out his pipe while I finished up on stewed pears and cream +and chocolate cake. It was a regular meal. I wondered what Andrew +was eating and whether he had found the nest behind the wood pile +where the red hen always drops her eggs. + +"Well, well," said Mr. Pratt, "tell us about the Perfessor. We was +expectin' him here some time this fall. He generally gets here +around cider time." + +"I guess there isn't so much to tell," I said. "He stopped up at our +place the other day, and said he wanted to sell his outfit. So I +bought him out. He was pining to get back to Brooklyn and write a +book." + +"That book o' his!" said Mrs. Pratt. "He was always talkin' on it, +but I don't believe he ever started it yet." + +"Whereabout do you come from, Miss McGill?" said Pratt. I could see +he was mighty puzzled at a woman driving a vanload of books around +the country, alone. + +"Over toward Redfield," I said. + +"You any kin to that writer that lives up that way?" + +"You mean Andrew McGill?" I said. "He's my brother." + +"Do tell!" exclaimed Mrs. Pratt. "Why the Perfessor thought a +terrible lot of him. He read us all to sleep with one of his books +one night. Said he was the best literature in this State, I do +believe." + +I smiled to myself as I thought of the set-to on the road from +Shelby. + +"Well," said Pratt, "if the Perfessor's got any better friends +than us in these parts, I'm glad to meet 'em. He come here first +time 'bout four years ago. I was up working in the hayfield that +afternoon, and I heard a shout down by the mill pond. I looked over +that way and saw a couple o' kids waving their arms and screamin'. +I ran down the hill and there was the Perfessor just a pullin' my +boy Dick out o' the water. Dick's this one over here." + +Dick, a small boy of thirteen or so, grew red under his freckles. + +"The kids had been foolin' around on a raft there, an' first thing +you know Dick fell in, right into deep water, over by the dam. +Couldn't swim a stroke, neither. And the Perfessor, who jest +happened to be comin' along in that 'bus of his, heard the boys +yell. Didn't he hop out o' the wagon as spry as a chimpanzee, skin +over the fence, an' jump into the pond, swim out there an' tow the +boy in! Yes, ma'am, he saved that boy's life then an' no mistake. +That man can read me to sleep with poetry any night he has a mind +to. He's a plumb fine little firecracker, the Perfessor." + +Farmer Pratt pulled hard on his pipe. Evidently his friendship for +the wandering bookseller was one of the realities of his life. + +"Yes, ma'am," he went on, "that Perfessor has been a good friend to +me, sure enough. We brought him an' the boy back to the house. The +boy had gone down three times an' the Perfessor had to dive to find +him. They were both purty well all in, an' I tell you I was scared. +But we got Dick around somehow--rolled him on a sugar bar'l, an' +poured whiskey in him, an' worked his arms, an' put him in hot +blankets. By and by he come to. An' then I found that the Perfessor, +gettin' over the barb-wire fence so quick (when he lit for the pond) +had torn a hole in his leg you could put four fingers in. There was +his trouser all stiff with blood, an' he not sayin' a thing. +Pluckiest little runt in three States, by Judas! Well, we put _him_ +to bed, too, and then the Missus keeled over, an' we put _her_ to +bed. Three of them, by time the Doc got here. Great old summer +afternoon that was! But bless your heart, we couldn't keep the +Perfessor abed long. Next day he was out lookin' fer his poetry +books, an' first thing you know he had us all rounded up an' was +preachin' good literature at us like any evangelist. I guess we all +fell asleep over his poetry, so then he started on readin' that +'Treasure Island' story to us, wasn't it, Mother? By hickory, we +none of us fell asleep over that. He started the kids readin' so +they been at it ever since, and Dick's top boy at school now. +Teacher says she never saw such a boy for readin'. That's what +Perfessor done for us! Well, tell us 'bout yerself, Miss McGill. Is +there any good books we ought to read? I used to pine for some o' +that feller Shakespeare my father used to talk about so much, but +Perfessor always 'lowed it was over my head!" + +It gave me quite a thrill to hear all this about Mifflin. I +could readily imagine the masterful little man captivating the +simple-hearted Pratts with his eloquence and earnestness. And the +story of the mill pond had its meaning, too. Little Redbeard was no +mere wandering crank--he was a real man, cool and steady of brain, +with the earmarks of a hero. I felt a sudden gush of warmth as I +recalled his comical ways. + +Mrs. Pratt lit a fire in her Franklin stove and I racked my head +wondering how I could tread worthily in the Professor's footsteps. +Finally I fetched the "Jungle Book" from Parnassus and read them +the story of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. There was a long pause when I had +finished. + +"Say, Pa," said Dick shyly, "that mongoose was rather like +Professor, wasn't he!" + +Plainly the Professor was the traditional hero of this family, +and I began to feel rather like an impostor! + +I suppose it was foolish of me, but I had already made up my mind +to push on to Woodbridge that night. It could not be more than four +miles, and the time was not much after eight. I felt a little twinge +of quite unworthy annoyance because I was still treading in the +glamour of the Professor's influence. The Pratts would talk of +nothing else, and I wanted to get somewhere where I would be +estimated at my own value, not merely as his disciple. "Darn the +Redbeard," I said to myself, "I think he has bewitched these +people!" And in spite of their protests and invitations to stay the +night, I insisted on having Peg hitched up. I gave them the copy +of the "Jungle Book" as a small return for their hospitality, +and finally sold Mr. Pratt a little copy of "Lamb's Tales from +Shakespeare" which I thought he could read without brain fever. Then +I lit my lantern and after a chorus of good-byes Parnassus rolled +away. "Well," I said to myself as I turned into the high road once +more, "drat the gingersnap, he seems to hypnotize everybody... he +must be nearly in Brooklyn by this time!" + +It was very quiet along the road, also very dark, for the sky had +clouded over and I could see neither moon nor stars. As it was a +direct road I should have had no difficulty, and I suppose I must +have fallen into a doze during which Peg took a wrong turning. At +any rate, I realized about half-past nine that Parnassus was on a +much rougher road than the highway had any right to be, and there +were no telephone poles to be seen. I knew that they stretched +all along the main road, so plainly I had made a mistake. I was +reluctant for a moment to admit that I could be wrong, and just +then Peg stumbled heavily and stood still. She paid no heed to my +exhortations, and when I got out and carried my lantern to see +whether anything was in the way, I found that she had cast a shoe +and her foot was bleeding. The shoe must have dropped off some way +back and she had picked up a nail or something in the quick. I saw +no alternative but to stay where I was for the night. + +This was not very pleasant, but the adventures of the day had put +me into a stoical frame of mind, and I saw no good in repining. I +unhitched Peg, sponged her foot, and tied her to a tree. I would +have made more careful explorations to determine just where I was, +but a sharp patter of rain began to fall. So I climbed into my +Parnassus, took Bock in with me, and lit the swinging lamp. By this +time it was nearly ten o'clock. There was nothing to do but turn in, +so I took off my boots and lay down in the bunk. Bock lay quite +comfortably on the floor of the van. I meant to read for a while, +and so did not turn out the light, but I fell asleep almost +immediately. + +I woke up at half-past eleven and turned out the lamp, which had +made the van very warm. I opened the little windows front and back, +and would have opened the door, but I feared Bock might slip away. +It was still raining a little. To my annoyance I felt very wakeful. +I lay for some time listening to the patter of raindrops on the roof +and skylight--a very snug sound when one is warm and safe. Every now +and then I could hear Peg stamping in the underbrush. I was almost +dozing off again when Bock gave a low growl. + +No woman of my bulk has a right to be nervous, I guess, but +instantly my security vanished! The patter of the rain seemed +menacing, and I imagined a hundred horrors. I was totally alone and +unarmed, and Bock was not a large dog. He growled again, and I felt +worse than before. I imagined that I heard stealthy sounds in the +bushes, and once Peg snorted as though frightened. I put my hand +down to pat Bock, and found that his neck was all bristly, like a +fighting cock. He uttered a queer half growl, half whine, which +gave me a chill. Some one must be prowling about the van, but in the +falling rain I could hear nothing. + +I felt I must do something. I was afraid to call out lest I betray +the fact that there was only a woman in the van. My expedient was +absurd enough, but at any rate it satisfied my desire to act. I +seized one of my boots and banged vigorously on the floor, at the +same time growling in as deep and masculine a voice as I could +muster: "What the hell's the matter? What the hell's the matter?" +This sounds silly enough, I dare say, but it afforded me some +relief. And as Bock shortly ceased growling, it apparently served +some purpose. + +I lay awake for a long time, tingling all over with nervousness. +Then I began to grow calmer, and was getting drowsy almost in spite +of myself when I was aroused by the unmistakable sound of Bock's +tail thumping on the floor--a sure sign of pleasure. This puzzled +me quite as much as his growls. I did not dare strike a light, but +could hear him sniffing at the door of the van and whining with +eagerness. This seemed very uncanny, and again I crept stealthily +out of the bunk and pounded on the floor lustily, this time with the +frying pan, which made an unearthly din. Peg neighed and snorted, +and Bock began to bark. Even in my anxiety I almost laughed. "It +sounds like an insane asylum," I thought, and reflected that +probably the disturbance was only caused by some small animal. +Perhaps a rabbit or a skunk which Bock had winded and wanted to +chase. I patted him, and crawled into my bunk once more. + +But my real excitement was still to come. About half an hour later +I heard unmistakable footsteps alongside the van. Bock growled +furiously, and I lay in a panic. Something jarred one of the wheels. +Then broke out a most extraordinary racket. I heard quick steps, Peg +whinneyed, and something fell heavily against the back of the wagon. +There was a violent scuffle on the ground, the sound of blows, and +rapid breathing. With my heart jumping I peered out of one of the +back windows. There was barely any light, but dimly I could see a +tumbling mass which squirmed and writhed on the ground. Something +struck one of the rear wheels so that Parnassus trembled. I heard +hoarse swearing, and then the whole body, whatever it was, rolled +off into the underbrush. There was a terrific crashing and snapping +of twigs. Bock whined, growled, and pawed madly at the door. And +then complete silence. + +My nerves were quite shattered by this time. I don't think I had +been so frightened since childhood days when I awakened from a +nightmare. Little trickles of fear crept up and down my spine and my +scalp prickled. I pulled Bock on the bunk, and lay with one hand on +his collar. He, too, seemed agitated and sniffed gingerly now and +then. Finally, however, he gave a sigh and fell asleep. I judged it +might have been two o'clock, but I did not like to strike a light. +And at last I fell into a doze. + +When I woke the sun was shining brilliantly and the air was full of +the chirping of birds. I felt stiff and uneasy from sleeping in my +clothes, and my foot was numb from Bock's weight. + +I got up and looked out of the window. Parnassus was standing in a +narrow lane by a grove of birch trees. The ground was muddy, and +smeared with footprints behind the van. I opened the door and looked +around. The first thing I saw, on the ground by one of the wheels, +was a battered tweed cap. + + + +CHAPTER NINE + + +My feelings were as mixed as a crushed nut sundae. So the Professor +hadn't gone to Brooklyn after all! What did he mean by prowling +after me like a sleuth? Was it just homesickness for Parnassus? Not +likely! And then the horrible noises I had heard in the night; had +some tramp been hanging about the van in the hope of robbing me? Had +the tramp attacked Mifflin? Or had Mifflin attacked the tramp? Who +had got the better of it? + +I picked up the muddy cap and threw it into the van. Anyway, I had +problems of my own to tackle, and those of the Professor could wait. + +Peg whinneyed when she saw me. I examined her foot. Seeing it by +daylight the trouble was not hard to diagnose. A long, jagged piece +of slate was wedged in the frog of the foot. I easily wrenched it +out, heated some water, and gave the hoof another sponging. It +would be all right when shod once more. But where was the shoe? + +I gave the horse some oats, cooked an egg and a cup of coffee for +myself at the little kerosene stove, and broke up a dog biscuit +for Bock. I marvelled once more at the completeness of Parnassus' +furnishings. Bock helped me to scour the pan. He sniffed eagerly +at the cap when I showed it to him, and wagged his tail. + +It seemed to me that the only thing I could do was to leave +Parnassus and the animals where they were and retrace my steps as +far as the Pratt farm. Undoubtedly Mr. Pratt would be glad to sell +me a horse-shoe and send his hired man to do the job for me. I could +not drive Peg as she was, with a sore foot and without a shoe. I +judged Parnassus would be quite safe: the lane seemed to be a lonely +one leading to a deserted quarry. I tied Bock to the steps to act as +a guard, took my purse and the Professor's cap with me, locked the +door of the van, and set off along the back track. Bock whined and +tugged violently when he saw me disappearing, but I could see no +other course. + +The lane rejoined the main road about half a mile back. I must have +been asleep or I could never have made the mistake of turning off. +I don't see why Peg should have made the turn, unless her foot hurt +and she judged the side track would be a good place to rest. She +must have been well used to stopping overnight in the open. + +I strode along pondering over my adventures, and resolved to buy a +pistol when I got to Woodbridge. I remember thinking that I could +write quite a book now myself. Already I began to feel quite a +hardened pioneer. It doesn't take an adaptable person long to +accustom one's self to a new way of life, and the humdrum routine of +the farm certainly looked prosy compared to voyaging with Parnassus. +When I had got beyond Woodbridge, and had crossed the river, I would +begin to sell books in earnest. Also I would buy a notebook and jot +down my experiences. I had heard of bookselling as a profession +for women, but I thought that my taste of it was probably unique. +I might even write a book that would rival Andrew's--yes, and +Mifflin's. And that brought my thoughts to Barbarossa again. + +Of all extraordinary people, I thought, he certainly takes the +cake--and then, rounding a bend, I saw him sitting on a rail fence, +with his head shining in the sunlight. My heart gave a sort of jump. +I do believe I was getting fond of the Professor. He was examining +something which he held in his hand. + +"You'll get sunstroke," I said. "Here's your cap." And I pulled it +out of my pocket and tossed it to him. + +"Thanks," he said, as cool as you please. "And here's your +horse-shoe. Fair exchange!" + +I burst out laughing, and he looked disconcerted, as I hoped he +would. + +"I thought you'd be in Brooklyn by now," I said, "at 600 Abingdon +Avenue, laying out Chapter One. What do you mean by following me +this way? You nearly frightened me to death last night. I felt like +one of Fenimore Cooper's heroines, shut up in the blockhouse while +the redskins prowled about." + +He flushed and looked very uncomfortable. + +"I owe you an apology," he said. "I certainly never intended that +you should see me. I bought a ticket for New York and checked my +bag through. And then while I was waiting for the train it came +over me that your brother was right, and that it was a darned risky +thing for you to go jaunting about alone in Parnassus. I was afraid +something might happen. I followed along the road behind you, +keeping well out of sight." + +"Where were you while I was at Pratt's?" + +"Sitting not far down the road eating bread and cheese," he said. +"Also I wrote a poem, a thing I very rarely do." + +"Well, I hope your ears burned," I said, "for those Pratts have +certainly raised you to the peerage." + +He got more uncomfortable than ever. + +"Well," he said, "I dare say it was all an error, but anyway I _did_ +follow you. When you turned off into that lane, I kept pretty close +behind you. As it happens, I know this bit of country, and there are +very often some hoboes hanging around the old quarry up that lane. +They have a cave there where they go into winter quarters. I was +afraid some of them might bother you. You could hardly have chosen a +worse place to camp out. By the bones of George Eliot, Pratt ought +to have warned you. I can't conceive why you didn't stop at his +house overnight anyway." + +"If you must know, I got weary of hearing them sing your praises." + +I could see that he was beginning to get nettled. + +"I regret having alarmed you," he said. "I see that Peg has dropped +a shoe. If you'll let me fix it for you, after that I won't bother +you." + +We turned back again along the road, and I noticed the right side of +his face for the first time. Under the ear was a large livid bruise. + +"That hobo, or whoever he was," I said, "must have been a better +fighter than Andrew. I see he landed on your cheek. Are you always +fighting?" + +His annoyance disappeared. Apparently the Professor enjoyed a fight +almost as much as he did a good book. + +"Please don't regard the last twenty-four hours as typical of me," +he said with a chuckle. "I am so unused to being a squire of dames +that perhaps I take the responsibilities too seriously." + +"Did you sleep at all last night?" I asked. I think I began to +realize for the first time that the gallant little creature had been +out all night in a drizzling rain, simply to guard me from possible +annoyance; and I had been unforgivably churlish about it. + +"I found a very fine haystack in a field overlooking the quarry. +I crawled into the middle of it. A haystack is sometimes more +comfortable than a boarding-house." + +"Well," I said penitently, "I can never forgive myself for the +trouble I've caused you. It was awfully good of you to do what +you did. Please put your cap on and don't catch cold." + +We walked for several minutes in silence. I watched him out of the +corner of my eye. I was afraid he might have caught his death of +cold from being out all night in the wet, to say nothing of the +scuffle he had had with the tramp; but he really looked as chipper +as ever. + +"How do you like the wild life of a bookseller?" he said. +"You must read George Borrow. He would have enjoyed Parnassus." + +"I was just thinking, when I met you, that I could write a book +about my adventures." + +"Good!" he said. "We might collaborate." + +"There's another thing we might collaborate on," I said, "and +that's breakfast. I'm sure you haven't had any." + +"No," he said, "I don't think I have. I never lie when I know +I shan't be believed." + +"I haven't had any, either," I said. I thought that to tell an +untruth would be the least thing I could do to reward the little +man for his unselfishness. + +"Well," he said, "I really thought that by this time--" + +He broke off. "Was that Bock barking?" he asked sharply. + +We had been walking slowly, and had not yet reached the spot where +the lane branched from the main road. We were still about three +quarters of a mile from the place where I had camped overnight. We +both listened carefully, but I could hear nothing but the singing of +the telephone wires along the road. + +"No matter," he said. "I thought I heard a dog." But I noticed that +he quickened his pace. + +"I was saying," he continued, "that I had really thought to have +lost Parnassus for good by this morning, but I'm tickled to death to +have a chance to see her again. I hope she'll be as good a friend to +you as she has been to me. I suppose you'll sell her when you return +to the Sage?" + +"I don't know I'm sure," I said. "I must confess I'm still a little +at sea. My desire for an adventure seems to have let me in deeper +than I expected. I begin to see that there's more in this +bookselling game than I thought. Honestly, it's getting into my +blood." + +"Well, that's fine," he said heartily. "I couldn't have left +Parnassus in better hands. You must let me know what you do with +her, and then perhaps, when I've finished my book, I can buy her +back." + +We struck off into the lane. The ground was slippery under the trees +and we went single file, Mifflin in front. I looked at my watch--it +was nine o'clock, just an hour since I had left the van. As we +neared the spot Mifflin kept looking ahead through the birch trees +in a queer way. + +"What's the matter?" I said. "We're almost there, aren't we?" + +"We _are_ there," he said. "Here's the place." + +Parnassus was gone! + + + +CHAPTER TEN + + +We stood in complete dismay--I did, at any rate--for about as long +as it takes to peel a potato. There could be no doubt in which +direction the van had moved, for the track of the wheels was plain. +It had gone farther up the lane toward the quarry. In the earth, +which was still soggy, were a number of footprints. + +"By the bones of Polycarp!" exclaimed the Professor, "those hoboes +have stolen the van. I guess they think it'll make a fine Pullman +sleeper for them. If I'd realized there was more than one of them +I'd have hung around closer. They need a lesson." + +Good Lord! I thought, here's Don Quixote about to wade into another +fight. + +"Hadn't we better go back and get Mr. Pratt?" I asked. + +This was obviously the wrong thing to say. It put the fiery little +man all the more on his mettle. His beard bristled. "Nothing of the +sort!" he said. "Those fellows are cowards and vagabonds anyway. +They can't be far off; you haven't been away more than an hour, have +you? If they've done anything to Bock, by the bones of Chaucer, I'll +harry them. I _thought_ I heard him bark." + +He hurried up the lane, and I followed in a panicky frame of mind. +The track wound along a hillside, between a high bank and a forest +of birch trees. I think the distance can't have been more than a +quarter of a mile. Anyway, in a very few minutes the road made a +sharp twist to the right and we found ourselves looking down into +the quarry, over a sheer rocky drop of a hundred feet at least. +Below, drawn over to one side of the wall of rock, stood Parnassus. +Peg was between the shafts. Bock was nowhere to be seen. Sitting by +the van were three disreputable looking men. The smoke of a cooking +fire rose into the air; evidently they were making free with my +little larder. + +"Keep back," said the Professor softly. "Don't let them see us." He +flattened himself in the grass and crawled to the edge of the cliff. +I did the same, and we lay there, invisible from below, but quite +able to see everything in the quarry. The three tramps were +evidently enjoying an excellent breakfast. + +"This place is a regular hang-out for these fellows," Mifflin +whispered. "I've seen hoboes about here every year. They go into +winter quarters about the end of October, usually. There's an old +blasted-out section of this quarry that makes a sheltered dormitory +for them, and as the place isn't worked any more they're not +disturbed here so long as they don't make mischief in the +neighbourhood. We'll give them...." + +"Hands up!" said a rough voice behind us. I looked round. There was +a fat, red-faced villainous-looking creature covering us with a +shiny revolver. It was an awkward situation. Both the Professor and +I were lying full length on the ground. We were quite helpless. + +"Get up!" said the tramp in a husky, nasty voice. "I guess youse +thought we wasn't covering our trail? Well, we'll have to tie you +up, I reckon, while we get away with this Crystal Pallis of yourn." + +I scrambled to my feet, but to my surprise the Professor continued +to lie at full length. + +"Get up, deacon!" said the tramp again. "Get up on them graceful +limbs, _if_ you please." + +I guess he thought himself safe from attack by a woman. At any rate, +he bent over as if to grab Mifflin by the neck. I saw my chance +and jumped on him from behind. I am heavy, as I have said, and he +sprawled on the ground. My doubts as to the pistol being loaded were +promptly dissolved, for it went off like a cannon. Nobody was in +front of it, however, and Mifflin was on his feet like a flash. He +had the ruffian by the throat and kicked the weapon out of his hand. +I ran to seize it. + +"You son of Satan!" said the valiant Redbeard. "Thought you could +bully us, did you? Miss McGill, you were as quick as Joan of Arc. +Hand me the pistol, please." + +I gave it to him, and he shoved it under the hobo's nose. + +"Now," he said, "take off that rag around your neck." + +The rag was an old red handkerchief, inconceivably soiled. The tramp +removed it, grumbling and whining. Mifflin gave me the pistol to +hold while he tied our prisoner's wrists together. In the meantime +we heard a shout from the quarry. The three vagabonds were gazing up +in great excitement. + +"You tell those fashion plates down there," said Mifflin, as he +knotted the tramp's hands together, "that if they make any fight +I'll shoot them like crows." His voice was cold and savage and he +seemed quite master of the situation, but I must confess I wondered +how we could handle four of them. + +The greasy ruffian shouted down to his pals in the quarry, but I did +not hear what he said, as just then the Professor asked me to keep +our captive covered while he got a stick. I stood with the pistol +pointed at his head while Mifflin ran back into the birchwood to cut +a cudgel. + +The tramp's face became the colour of the under side of a fried egg +as he looked into the muzzle of his own gun. + +"Say, lady," he pleaded, "that gun goes off awful easy, point her +somewhere else or you'll croak me by mistake." + +I thought a good scare wouldn't do him any harm and kept the barrel +steadily on him. + +The rascals down below seemed debating what to do. I don't know +whether they were armed or not; but probably they imagined that +there were more than two of us. At all events, by the time Mifflin +came back with a stout birch staff they were hustling out of the +quarry on the lower side. The Professor swore, and looked as if he +would gladly give chase, but he refrained. + +"Here, you," he said in crisp tones to the tramp, "march on ahead of +us, down to the quarry." + +The fat ruffian shambled awkwardly down the trail. We had to make +quite a detour to get into the quarry, and by the time we reached +there the other three tramps had got clean away. I was not sorry, to +tell the truth. I thought the Professor had had enough scrapping for +one twenty-four hours. + +Peg whinneyed loudly as she saw us coming, but Bock was not in sight. + +"What have you done with the dog, you swine?" said Mifflin. "If +you've hurt him I'll make you pay with your own hide." + +Our prisoner was completely cowed. "No, boss, we ain't hurt the +dog," he fawned. "We tied him up so he couldn't bark, that's all. +He's in the 'bus." And sure enough, by this time we could hear +smothered yelping and whining from Parnassus. + +I hurried to open the door, and there was Bock, his jaws tied +together with a rope-end. He bounded out and made super-canine +efforts to express his joy at seeing the Professor again. He paid +very little attention to me. + +"Well," said Mifflin, after freeing the dog's muzzle, and with +difficulty restraining him from burying his teeth in the tramp's +shin, "what shall we do with this heroic specimen of manhood? Shall +we cart him over to the jail in Port Vigor, or shall we let him go?" + +The tramp burst into a whining appeal that was almost funny, it was +so abject. The Professor cut it short. + +"I ought to pack you into quod," he said. "Are you the Phoebus +Apollo I scuffled with down the lane last night? Was it you skulking +around this wagon then?" + +"No, boss, that was Splitlip Sam, honest to Gawd it was. He come +back, boss; said he'd been fightin' with a cat-o'-mountain! Say, +boss, you sure hit him hard. One of his lamps is a pudding! Boss, +I'll swear I ain't had nothin' to do with it." + +"I don't like your society," said the Professor, "and I'm going to +turn you loose. I'm going to count ten, and if you're not out of +this quarry by then, I'll shoot. And if I see you again I'll skin +you alive. Now get out!" + +He cut the knotted handkerchief in two. The hobo needed no urging. +He spun on his heel and fled like a rabbit. The Professor watched +him go, and as the fat, ungainly figure burst through a hedge and +disappeared he fired the revolver into the air to frighten him still +more. Then he tossed the weapon into the pool near by. + +"Well, Miss McGill," he said with a chuckle, "if you like to +undertake breakfast, I'll fix up Peg." And he drew the horse-shoe +from his pocket once more. + +A brief inspection of Parnassus satisfied me that the thieves had +not had time to do any real damage. They had got out most of the +eatables and spread them on a flat rock in preparation for a feast; +and they had tracked a good deal of mud into the van; but otherwise +I could see nothing amiss. So while Mifflin busied himself with +Peg's foot it was easy for me to get a meal under way. I found a +gush of clean water trickling down the face of the rock. There were +still some eggs and bread and cheese in the little cupboard, and an +unopened tin of condensed milk. I gave Peg her nose bag of oats, and +fed Bock, who was frisking about in high spirits. By that time the +shoeing was done, and the Professor and I sat down to an improvised +meal. I was beginning to feel as if this gipsy existence were the +normal course of my life. + +"Well, Professor," I said, as I handed him a cup of coffee and a +plate of scrambled eggs and cheese, "for a man who slept in a wet +haystack, you acquit yourself with excellent valour." + +"Old Parnassus is quite a stormy petrel," he said. "I used to think +the chief difficulty in writing a book would be to invent things to +happen, but if I were to sit down and write the adventures I'd had +with her it would be a regular Odyssey." + +"How about Peg's foot?" I asked. "Can she travel on it?" + +"It'll be all right if you go easy. I've scraped out the injured +part and put the shoe back. I keep a little kit of tools under the +van for emergencies of all sorts." + +It was chilly, and we didn't dawdle over our meal. I only made a +feint of eating, as I had had a little breakfast before, and also +as the events of the last few hours had left me rather restless. I +wanted to get Parnassus out on the highway again, to jog along in +the sun and think things over. The quarry was a desolate, forbidding +place anyway. But before we left we explored the cave where the +tramps had been preparing to make themselves comfortable for the +winter. It was not really a cave, but only a shaft into the granite +cliff. A screen of evergreen boughs protected the opening against +the weather, and inside were piles of sacking that had evidently +been used as beds, and many old grocery boxes for tables and chairs. +It amused me to notice a cracked fragment of mirror balanced on a +corner of rock. Even these ragamuffins apparently were not totally +unconscious of personal appearance. I seized the opportunity, while +the Professor was giving Peg's foot a final look, to rearrange my +hair, which was emphatically a sight. I hardly think Andrew would +have recognized me that morning. + +We led Peg up the steep incline, back into the lane where I had +strayed, and at length we reached the main road again. Here I began +to lay down the law to Redbeard. + +"Now look here, Professor," I said, "I'm not going to have you tramp +all the way back to Port Vigor. After the night you've had you need +a rest. You just climb into that Parnassus and lie down for a good +snooze. I'll drive you into Woodbridge and you can take your train +there. Now you get right into that bunk. I'll sit out here and drive." + +He demurred, but without much emphasis. I think the little fool was +just about fagged out, and no wonder. I was a trifle groggy myself. +In the end he was quite docile. He climbed into the van, took off +his boots, and lay down under a blanket. Bock followed him, and I +think they both fell asleep on the instant. I got on the front seat +and took the reins. I didn't let Peg go more quickly than a walk as +I wanted to spare her sore foot. + +My, what a morning that was after the rain! The road ran pretty +close to the shore, and every now and then I could catch a glimpse +of the water. The air was keen--not just the ordinary, unnoticed air +that we breathe in and out and don't think about, but a sharp and +tingling essence, as strong in the nostrils as camphor or ammonia. +The sun seemed focussed upon Parnassus, and we moved along the white +road in a flush of golden light. The flat fronds of the cedars +swayed gently in the salty air, and for the first time in ten +years, I should think, I began amusing myself by selecting words to +describe the goodness of the morning. I even imagined myself writing +a description of it, as if I were Andrew or Thoreau. The crazy +little Professor had inoculated me with his literary bug, I guess. + +And then I did a dishonourable thing. Just by chance I put my hand +into the little pocket beside the seat where Mifflin kept a few odds +and ends. I meant to have another look at that card of his with the +poem on it. And there I found a funny, battered little notebook, +evidently forgotten. On the cover was written, in ink, "Thoughts +on the Present Discontents." That title seemed vaguely familiar. I +seemed to recall something of the kind from my school days--more +than twenty years ago, goodness me! Of course if I had been +honourable I wouldn't have looked into it. But in a kind of +quibbling self-justification I recalled that I had bought Parnassus +and all it contained, "lock, stock, barrel and bung" as Andrew used +to say. And so.... + +The notebook was full of little jottings, written in pencil in +the Professor's small, precise hand. The words were rubbed +and soiled, but plainly legible. I read this: + + +I don't suppose Bock or Peg get lonely, but by the bones of Ben +Gunn, I do. Seems silly when Herrick and Hans Andersen and Tennyson +and Thoreau and a whole wagonload of other good fellows are riding +at my back. I can hear them all talking as we trundle along. But +books aren't a _substantial_ world after all, and every now and then +we get hungry for some closer, more human relationships. I've been +totally alone now for eight years--except for Runt, and he might be +dead and never say so. This wandering about is fine in its way, but +it must come to an end some day. A man needs to put down a root +somewhere to be really happy. + +What absurd victims of contrary desires we are! If a man is settled +in one place he yearns to wander; when he wanders he yearns to have +a home. And yet how bestial is content--all the great things in life +are done by discontented people. + +There are three ingredients in the good life: learning, earning, +and yearning. A man should be learning as he goes; and he should +be earning bread for himself and others; and he should be yearning, +too: yearning to know the unknowable. + +What a fine old poem is "The Pulley" by George Herbert! Those +Elizabethan fellows knew how to write! They were marred perhaps by +their idea that poems must be "witty." (Remember how Bacon said +that reading poets makes one witty? There he gave a clue to the +literature of his time.) Their fantastic puns and conceits are +rather out of our fashion nowadays. But Lord! the root of the +matter was in them! How gallantly, how reverently, they tackle the +problems of life! + +When God at first made man (says George Herbert) He had a "glass of +blessings standing by." So He pours on man all the blessings in His +reservoir: strength, beauty, wisdom, honour, pleasure--and then He +refrains from giving him the last of them, which is rest, i.e., +contentment. God sees that if man is contented he will never win +his way to Him. Let man be restless, so that + + "If goodness lead him not, yet weariness + May toss him to My breast." + +Some day I shall write a novel on that theme, and call it "The +Pulley." In this tragic, restless world there must be some +place where at last we can lay our heads and be at rest. Some +people call it death. Some call it God. + +My ideal of a man is not the Omar who wants to shatter into bits +this sorry scheme of things, and then remould it nearer to the +heart's desire. Old Omar was a coward, with his silk pajamas and +his glass of wine. The real man is George Herbert's "seasoned +timber"--the fellow who does handily and well whatever comes to him. +Even if it's only shovelling coal into a furnace he can balance the +shovel neatly, swing the coal square on the fire and not spill it on +the floor. If it's only splitting kindling or running a trolley car +he can make a good, artistic job of it. If it's only writing a book +or peeling potatoes he can put into it the best he has. Even if he's +only a bald-headed old fool over forty selling books on a country +road, he can make an ideal of it. Good old Parnassus! It's a great +game.... I think I'll have to give her up soon, though: I must get +that book of mine written. But Parnassus has been a true glass of +blessings to me. + + +There was much more in the notebook; indeed it was half full of +jotted paragraphs, memoranda, and scraps of writing--poems I believe +some of them were--but I had seen enough. It seemed as if I had +stumbled unawares on the pathetic, brave, and lonely heart of the +little man. I'm a commonplace creature, I'm afraid, insensible to +many of the deeper things in life, but every now and then, like all +of us, I come face to face with something that thrills me. I saw how +this little, red-bearded pedlar was like a cake of yeast in the big, +heavy dough of humanity: how he travelled about trying to fulfil in +his own way his ideals of beauty. I felt almost motherly toward him: +I wanted to tell him that I understood him. And in a way I felt +ashamed of having run away from my own homely tasks, my kitchen and +my hen yard and dear old, hot-tempered, absent-minded Andrew. I +fell into a sober mood. As soon as I was alone, I thought, I would +sell Parnassus and hurry back to the farm. That was my job, that +was my glass of blessings. What was I doing--a fat, middle-aged +woman--trapesing along the roads with a cartload of books I didn't +understand? + +I slipped the little notebook back into its hiding-place. I would +have died rather than let the Professor know I had seen it. + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + + +We were coming into Woodbridge; and I was just wondering whether to +wake the Professor when the little window behind me slid back and he +stuck his head out. + +"Hello!" he said. "I think I must have been asleep!" + +"Well, I should hope so," I said. "You needed it." + +Indeed he looked much better, and I was relieved to see it. I had +been really afraid he would be ill after sleeping out all night, but +I guess he was tougher than I thought. He joined me on the seat, and +we drove into the town. While he went to the station to ask about +the trains I had a fine time selling books. I was away from the +locality where I was known, and had no shyness in attempting to +imitate Mifflin's methods. I even went him one better by going into +a hardware store where I bought a large dinner bell. This I rang +lustily until a crowd gathered, then I put up the flaps and +displayed my books. As a matter of fact, I sold only one, but I +enjoyed myself none the less. + +By and by Mifflin reappeared. I think he had been to a barber: at +any rate he looked very spry: he had bought a clean collar and a +flowing tie of a bright electric blue which really suited him rather +well. + +"Well," he said, "the Sage is going to get back at me for that +punch on the nose! I've been to the bank to cash your check. They +telephoned over to Redfield, and apparently your brother has stopped +payment on it. It's rather awkward: they seem to think I'm a crook." + +I was furious. What right had Andrew to do that? + +"The brute!" I said. "What on earth shall I do?" + +"I suggest that you telephone to the Redfield Bank," he said, "and +countermand your brother's instructions--that is, unless you think +you've made a mistake? I don't want to take advantage of you." + +"Nonsense!" I said. "I'm not going to let Andrew spoil my holiday. +That's always his way: if he gets an idea into his head he's like a +mule. I'll telephone to Redfield, and then we'll go to see the bank +here." + +We put Parnassus up at the hotel, and I went to the telephone. I was +thoroughly angry at Andrew, and tried to get him on the wire first. +But Sabine Farm didn't answer. Then I telephoned to the bank in +Redfield, and got Mr. Shirley. He's the cashier, and I know him +well. I guess he recognized my voice, for he made no objection when +I told him what I wanted. + +"Now you telephone to the bank in Woodbridge," I said, "and tell +them to let Mr. Mifflin have the money. I'll go there with him to +identify him. Will that be all right?" + +"Perfectly," he said. The deceitful little snail! If I had only +known what he was concocting! + +Mifflin said there was a train at three o'clock which he could take. +We stopped at a little lunch room for a bite to eat, then he went +again to the bank, and I with him. We asked the cashier whether they +had had a message from Redfield. + +"Yes," he said. "We've just heard." And he looked at me rather +queerly. + +"Are you Miss McGill?" he said. + +"I am," I said. + +"Will you just step this way a moment?" he asked politely. + +He led me into a little sitting-room and asked me to sit down. I +supposed that he was going to get some paper for me to sign, so I +waited quite patiently for several minutes. I had left the Professor +at the cashier's window, where they would give him his money. + +I waited some time, and finally I got tired of looking at the Life +Insurance calendars. Then I happened to glance out of the window. +Surely that was the Professor, just disappearing round the corner +with another man? + +I returned to the cashier's desk. + +"What's the matter?" I said. "Your mahogany furniture is charming, +but I'm tired of it. Do I have to sit here any longer? And where's +Mr. Mifflin? Did he get his money?" + +The cashier was a horrid little creature with side whiskers. + +"I'm sorry you had to wait, Madam," he said. "The transaction is +just concluded. We gave Mr. Mifflin what was due him. There is no +need for you to stay longer." + +I thought this was very extraordinary. Surely the Professor would +not leave without saying good-bye? However, I noticed that the clock +said three minutes to three, so I thought that perhaps he had had to +run to catch his train. He was such a strange little man, anyway.... + +Well, I went back to the hotel, quite a little upset by this sudden +parting. At least I was glad the little man had got his money all +right. Probably he would write from Brooklyn, but of course I +wouldn't get the letter till I returned to the farm as that was the +only address he would have. Perhaps that wouldn't be so long after +all: but I did not feel like going back now, when Andrew had been +so horrid. + +I drove Parnassus on the ferry, and we crossed the river. I felt +lost and disagreeable. Even the fresh movement through the air +gave me no pleasure. Bock whined dismally inside the van. + +It didn't take me long to discover that Parnassing all alone had +lost some of its charms. I missed the Professor: missed his abrupt, +direct way of saying things, and his whimsical wit. And I was +annoyed by his skipping off without a word of good-bye. It didn't +seem natural. I partially appeased my irritation by stopping at a +farmhouse on the other side of the river and selling a cook book. +Then I started along the road for Bath--about five miles farther on. +Peg's foot didn't seem to bother her so I thought it would be safe +to travel that far before stopping for the night. Counting up the +days (with some difficulty: it seemed as though I had been away from +home a month), I remembered that this was Saturday night. I thought +I would stay in Bath over Sunday and get a good rest. We jogged +sedately along the road, and I got out a copy of "Vanity Fair." I +was so absorbed in Becky Sharp that I wouldn't even interrupt myself +to sell books at the houses we passed. I think reading a good book +makes one modest. When you see the marvellous insight into human +nature which a truly great book shows, it is bound to make you feel +small--like looking at the Dipper on a clear night, or seeing the +winter sunrise when you go out to collect the morning eggs. And +anything that makes you feel small is mighty good for you. + +"What do you mean by a great book?" said the Professor--I mean, +I imagined him saying it. It seemed to me as if I could see him +sitting there, with his corncob pipe in his hand and that quizzical +little face of his looking sharply at me. Somehow, talking with +the Professor had made me think. He was as good as one of those +Scranton correspondence courses, I do believe, and no money to pay +for postage. + +Well, I said to the Professor--to myself I mean--let's see: what +_is_ a good book? I don't mean books like Henry James's (he's +Andrew's great idol. It always seemed to me that he had a kind +of rush of words to the head and never stopped to sort them out +properly). A good book ought to have something simple about it. And, +like Eve, it ought to come from somewhere near the third rib: there +ought to be a heart beating in it. A story that's all forehead +doesn't amount to much. Anyway, it'll never get over at a Dorcas +meeting. That was the trouble with Henry James. Andrew talked so +much about him that I took one of his books to read aloud at our +sewing circle over at Redfield. Well, after one try we had to fall +back on "Pollyanna." + +I haven't been doing chores and running a farmhouse for fifteen +years without getting some ideas about life--and even about books. +I wouldn't set my lit'ry views up against yours, Professor (I was +still talking to Mifflin in my mind), no, nor even against +Andrew's--but as I say, I've got some ideas of my own. I've learned +that honest work counts in writing books just as much as it does in +washing dishes. I guess Andrew's books must be some good after all +because he surely does mull over them without end. I can forgive +his being a shiftless farmer so long as he really does his literary +chores up to the hilt. A man can be slack in everything else, if +he does one thing as well as he possibly can. And I guess it won't +matter my being an ignoramus in literature so long as I'm rated A-1 +in the kitchen. That's what I used to think as I polished and +scoured and scrubbed and dusted and swept and then set about getting +dinner. If I ever sat down to read for ten minutes the cat would +get into the custard. No woman in the country sits down for fifteen +consecutive minutes between sunrise and sunset, anyway, unless +she has half a dozen servants. And nobody knows anything about +literature unless he spends most of his life sitting down. So +there you are. + +The cultivation of philosophic reflection was a new experience for +me. Peg ambled along contentedly and the dog trailed under Parnassus +where I had tied him. I read "Vanity Fair" and thought about all +sorts of things. Once I got out to pick some scarlet maple leaves +that attracted me. The motors passing annoyed me with their dust +and noise, but by and by one of them stopped, looked at my outfit +curiously, and then asked to see some books. I put up the flaps for +them and we pulled off to one side of the road and had a good talk. +They bought two or three books, too. + +By the time I neared Bath the hands of my watch pointed to supper. +I was still a bit shy of Mifflin's scheme of stopping overnight at +farmhouses, so I thought I'd go right into the town and look for a +hotel. The next day was Sunday, so it seemed reasonable to give the +horse a good rest and stay in Bath two nights. The Hominy House +looked clean and old-fashioned, and the name amused me, so in I +went. It was a kind of high-class boarding-house, with mostly old +women around. It looked to me almost literary and Elbert Hubbardish +compared to the Grand Central in Shelby. The folks there stared at +me somewhat suspiciously and I half thought they were going to say +they didn't take pedlars; but when I flashed a new five-dollar bill +at the desk I got good service. A five-dollar bill is a patent of +nobility in New England. + +My! how I enjoyed that creamed chicken on toast, and buckwheat cakes +with syrup! After you get used to cooking all your own grub, a meal +off some one else's stove is the finest kind of treat. After supper +I was all prepared to sit out on the porch with my sweater on and +give a rocking chair a hot box, but then I remembered that it was up +to me to carry on the traditions of Parnassus. I was there to spread +the gospel of good books. I got to thinking how the Professor never +shirked carrying on his campaign, and I determined that I would be +worthy of the cause. + +When I think back about the experience, it seems pretty crazy, but +at the time I was filled with a kind of evangelistic zeal. I thought +if I was going to try to sell books I might as well have some fun +out of it. Most of the old ladies were squatting about in the +parlour, knitting or reading or playing cards. In the smoking-room I +could see two dried-up men. Mrs. Hominy, the manager of the place, +was sitting at her desk behind a brass railing, going over accounts +with a quill pen. I thought that the house probably hadn't had a +shock since Walt Whitman wrote "Leaves of Grass." In a kind of +do-or-die spirit I determined to give them a rouse. + +In the dining-room I had noticed a huge dinner bell that stood +behind the door. I stepped in there, and got it. Standing in the +big hall I began ringing it as hard as I could shake my arm. + +You might have thought it was a fire alarm. Mrs. Hominy dropped her +pen in horror. The colonial dames in the parlour came to life and +ran into the hall like cockroaches. In a minute I had gathered quite +a respectable audience. It was up to me to do the spellbinding. + +"Friends," I said (unconsciously imitating the Professor's tricks +of the trade, I guess), "this bell which generally summons you to +the groaning board now calls you to a literary repast. With the +permission of the management, and with apologies for disturbing your +tranquillity, I will deliver a few remarks on the value of good +books. I see that several of you are fond of reading, so perhaps the +topic will be congenial?" + +They gazed at me about as warmly as a round of walnut sundaes. + +"Ladies and Gentlemen," I continued, "of course you remember the +story of Abe Lincoln when he said, 'if you call a leg a tail, how +many tails has a dog?' 'Five,' you answer. Wrong; because, as Mr. +Lincoln said, calling a leg a tail...." + +I still think it was a good beginning. But that was as far as I got. +Mrs. Hominy came out of her trance, hastened from the cage, and +grabbed my arm. She was quite red with anger. + +"Really!" she said. "Well, really!... I must ask you to continue +this in some other place. We do not allow commercial travellers in +this house." + +And within fifteen minutes they had hitched up Peg and asked me to +move on. Indeed I was so taken aback by my own zeal that I could +hardly protest. In a kind of daze I found myself at the Moose Hotel, +where they assured me that they catered to mercantile people. I went +straight to my room and fell asleep as soon as I reached the straw +mattress. + +That was my first and only pubic speech. + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + + +The next day was Sunday, October sixth. I well remember the date. + +I woke up as chipper as any Robert W. Chambers heroine. All my +doubts and depressions of the evening before had fled, and I was +single-heartedly delighted with the world and everything in it. The +hotel was a poor place, but it would have taken more than that to +mar my composure. I had a bitterly cold bath in a real country tin +tub, and then eggs and pancakes for breakfast. At the table was +a drummer who sold lightning rods, and several other travelling +salesmen. I'm afraid my conversation was consciously modelled along +the line of what the Professor would have said if he had been there, +but at any rate I got along swimmingly. The travelling men, after a +moment or two of embarrassed diffidence, treated me quite as one of +themselves and asked me about my "line" with interest. I described +what I was doing and they all said they envied me my freedom to come +and go independently of trains. We talked cheerfully for a long +time, and almost without intending to, I started preaching about +books. In the end they insisted on my showing them Parnassus. We +all went out to the stable, where the van was quartered, and they +browsed over the shelves. Before I knew it I had sold five dollars' +worth, although I had decided not to do any business at all on +Sunday. But I couldn't refuse to sell them the stuff as they all +seemed so keen on getting something really good to read. One man +kept on talking about Harold Bell Wright, but I had to admit that +I hadn't heard of him. Evidently the Professor hadn't stocked any +of his works. I was tickled to see that after all little Redbeard +didn't know _everything_ about literature. + +After that I debated whether to go to church or to write letters. +Finally I decided in favour of the letters. First I tackled Andrew. +I wrote: + + +The Moose Hotel, Bath, +Sunday morning. + +DEAR ANDREW: + +It seems absurd to think that it's only three days since I left +Sabine Farm. Honestly, more has happened to me in these three days +than in three years at home. + +I'm sorry that you and Mr. Mifflin disagreed but I quite understood +your feelings. But I'm very angry that you should have tried to +stop that check I gave him. It was none of your business, Andrew. +I telephoned Mr. Shirley and made him send word to the bank in +Woodbridge to give Mifflin the money. Mr. Mifflin did not swindle me +into buying Parnassus. I did it of my own free will. If you want to +know the truth, it was your fault! I bought it because I was scared +_you_ would if I didn't. And I didn't want to be left all alone on +the farm from now till Thanksgiving while you went off on another +trip. So I decided to do the thing myself. I thought I'd see how you +would like being left all alone to run the house. I thought it'd be +pretty nice for me to get things off my mind a while and have an +adventure of my own. + +Now, Andrew, here are some directions for you: + +1. Don't forget to feed the chickens twice a day, and collect _all_ +the eggs. There's a nest behind the wood pile, and some of the +Wyandottes have been laying under the ice house. + +2. Don't let Rosie touch grandmother's blue china, because she'll +break it as sure as fate if she lays her big, thick Swedish fingers +on it. + +3. Don't forget your warmer underwear. The nights are getting +chilly. + +4. I forgot to put the cover on the sewing machine. Please do that +for me or it'll get all dusty. + +5. Don't let the cat run loose in the house at night: he always +breaks something. + +6. Send your socks and anything else that needs darning over to Mrs. +McNally, she can do it for you. + +7. Don't forget to feed the pigs. + +8. Don't forget to mend the weathervane on the barn. + +9. Don't forget to send that barrel of apples over to the cider mill +or you won't have any cider to drink when Mr. Decameron comes up to +see us later in the fall. + +10. Just to make ten commandments, I'll add one more: You might +'phone to Mrs. Collins that the Dorcas will have to meet at some +one else's house next week, because I don't know just when I'll get +back. I may be away a fortnight more. This is my first holiday in a +long time and I'm going to chew it before I swallow it. + +The Professor (Mr. Mifflin, I mean) has gone back to Brooklyn to +work on his book. I'm sorry you and he had to mix it up on the high +road like a couple of hooligans. He's a nice little man and you'd +like him if you got to know him. + +I'm spending Sunday in Bath: to-morrow I'm going on toward Hastings. +I've sold five dollars' worth of books this morning even if it is +Sunday. + +Your affte sister +HELEN McGiLL. + +P.S. Don't forget to clean the separator after using it, or it'll +get in a fearful state. + + +After writing to Andrew I thought I would send a message to the +Professor. I had already written him a long letter in my mind, but +somehow when I began putting it on paper a sort of awkwardness came +over me. I didn't know just how to begin. I thought how much more +fun it would be if he were there himself and I could listen to him +talk. And then, while I was writing the first few sentences, some +of the drummers came back into the room. + +"Thought you'd like to see a Sunday paper," said one of them. + +I picked up the newspaper with a word of thanks and ran an eye over +the headlines. The ugly black letters stood up before me, and my +heart gave a great contraction. I felt my fingertips turn cold. + + DISASTROUS WRECK + ON THE SHORE LINE + EXPRESS RUNS INTO OPEN SWITCH + -- + TEN LIVES LOST, AND + MORE THAN A SCORE INJURED + -- + FAILURE OF BLOCK SIGNALS + +The letters seemed to stand up before me as large as a Malted Milk +signboard. With a shuddering apprehension I read the details. +Apparently the express that left Providence at four o'clock on +Saturday afternoon had crashed into an open siding near Willdon +about six o'clock, and collided with a string of freight empties. +The baggage car had been demolished and the smoker had turned over +and gone down an embankment. There were ten men killed... my head +swam. Was that the train the Professor had taken? Let me see. He +left Woodbridge on a local train at three. He had said the day +before that the express left Port Vigor at five.... If he had +changed to the express..... + +In a kind of fascinated horror my eye caught the list of the dead. +I ran down the names. Thank God, no, Mifflin was not among them. +Then I saw the last entry: + +UNIDENTIFIED MAN, MIDDLE-AGED. + +What if that should be the Professor? + +And I suddenly felt dizzy, and for the first time in my life I +fainted. + +Thank goodness, no one else was in the room. The drummers had gone +outside again, and no one heard me flop off the chair. I came to in +a moment, my heart whirling like a spinning top. At first I did not +realize what was wrong. Then my eye fell on the newspaper again. +Feverishly I re-read the account, and the names of the injured, too, +which I had missed before. Nowhere was there a name I knew. But the +tragic words "unidentified man" danced before my eyes. Oh! if it +were the Professor.... + +In a wave the truth burst upon me. I loved that little man: I loved +him, I loved him. He had brought something new into my life, and his +brave, quaint ways had warmed my fat old heart. For the first time, +in an intolerable gush of pain, I seemed to know that my life could +never again be endurable without him. And now--what was I to do? + +How could I learn the truth? Certainly if he _had_ been on the +train, and had escaped from the wreck unhurt, he would have sent +a message to Sabine Farm to let me know. At any rate, that was a +possibility. I rushed to the telephone to call up Andrew. + +Oh! the agonizing slowness of telephone connections when urgent +hurry is needed! My voice shook as I said "Redfield 158 J" to the +operator. Throbbing with nervousness I waited to hear the familiar +click of the receiver at the other end. I could hear the Redfield +switchboard receive the call, and put in the plug to connect with +our wire. In imagination I could see the telephone against the wall +in the old hallway at Sabine Farm. I could see the soiled patch of +plaster where Andrew rests his elbow when he talks into the 'phone, +and the place where he jots numbers down in pencil and I rub +them off with bread crumbs. I could see Andrew coming out of +the sitting-room to answer the bell. And then the operator said +carelessly, "Doesn't answer." My forehead was wet as I came out +of the booth. + +I hope I may never have to re-live the horrors of the next hour. +In spite of my bluff and hearty ways, in times of trouble I am as +reticent as a clam. I was determined to hide my agony and anxiety +from the well-meaning people of the Moose Hotel. I hurried to the +railway station to send a telegram to the Professor's address in +Brooklyn, but found the place closed. A boy told me it would not be +open until the afternoon. From a drugstore I called "information" in +Willdon, and finally got connected with some undertaker to whom the +Willdon operator referred me. A horrible, condoling voice (have you +ever talked to an undertaker over the telephone?) answered me that +no one by the name of Mifflin had been among the dead, but admitted +that there was one body still unidentified. He used one ghastly word +that made me shudder--unrecognizable. I rang off. + +I knew then for the first time the horror of loneliness. I thought +of the poor little man's notebook that I had seen. I thought of his +fearless and lovable ways--of his pathetic little tweed cap, of the +missing button of his jacket, of the bungling darns on his frayed +sleeve. It seemed to me that heaven could mean nothing more than to +roll creaking along country roads, in Parnassus, with the Professor +beside me on the seat. What if I had known him only--how long was +it? He had brought the splendour of an ideal into my humdrum life. +And now--had I lost it forever? Andrew and the farm seemed faint and +far away. I was a homely old woman, mortally lonely and helpless. +In my perplexity I walked to the outskirts of the village and burst +into tears. + +Finally I got a grip on myself again. I am not ashamed to say that +I now admitted frankly what I had been hiding from myself. I was in +love--in love with a little, red-bearded bookseller who seemed to me +more splendid than Sir Galahad. And I vowed that if he would have +me, I would follow him to the other end of nowhere. + +I walked back to the hotel. I thought I would make one more try to +get Andrew on the telephone. My whole soul quivered when at last I +heard the receiver click. + +"Hello?" said Andrew's voice. + +"Oh, Andrew," I said, "this is Helen." + +"Where are you?" (His voice sounded cross.) + +"Andrew, is there any--any message from Mr. Mifflin? That wreck +yesterday--he might have been on that train--I've been so +frightened; do you think he was--hurt?" + +"Stuff and nonsense," said Andrew. "If you want to know about +Mifflin, he's in jail in Port Vigor." + +And then I think Andrew must have been surprised. I began to laugh +and cry simultaneously, and in my agitation I set down the receiver. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + + +My first impulse was to hide myself in some obscure corner where I +could vent my feelings without fear or favour. I composed my face +as well as I could before leaving the 'phone booth; then I sidled +across the lobby and slipped out of the side door. I found my way +into the stable, where good old Peg was munching in her stall. The +fine, homely smell of horseflesh and long-worn harness leather went +right to my heart, and while Bock frisked at my knees I laid my head +on Peg's neck and cried. I think that fat old mare understood me. +She was as tubby and prosaic and middle-aged as I--but she loved the +Professor. + +Suddenly Andrew's words echoed again in my mind. I had barely +heeded them before, in the great joy of my relief, but now their +significance came to me. "In jail." The Professor in jail! That was +the meaning of his strange disappearance at Woodbridge. That little +brute of a man Shirley must have telephoned from Redfield, and when +the Professor came to the Woodbridge bank to cash that check they +had arrested him. That was why they had shoved me into that mahogany +sitting-room. Andrew must be behind this. The besotted old fool! My +face burned with anger and humiliation. + +I never knew before what it means to be really infuriated. I could +feel my brain tingle. The Professor in jail! The gallant, chivalrous +little man, penned up with hoboes and sneak thieves suspected of +being a crook... as if I couldn't take care of myself! What did they +think he was, anyway? A kidnapper? + +Instantly I decided I would hurry back to Port Vigor without delay. +If Andrew had had the Professor locked up, it could only be on the +charge of defrauding me. Certainly it couldn't be for giving him a +bloody nose on the road from Shelby. And if I appeared to deny the +charge, surely they would have to let Mr. Mifflin go. + +I believe I must have been talking to myself in Peg's stall--at +any rate, just at this moment the stableman appeared and looked +very bewildered when he saw me, with flushed face and in obvious +excitement, talking to the horse. I asked him when was the next +train to Port Vigor. + +"Well, ma'am," he said, "they say that all the local trains is held +up till the wreck at Willdon's cleared away. This being Sunday, I +don't think you'll get anything from here until to-morrow morning." + +I reflected. It wasn't so awfully far back to Port Vigor. A flivver +from the local garage could spin me back there in a couple of +hours at the most. But somehow it seemed more fitting to go to the +Professor's rescue in his own Parnassus, even if it would take +longer to get there. To tell the truth, while I was angry and +humiliated at the thought of his being put in jail by Andrew, I +couldn't help, deep down within me, being rather thankful. Suppose +he had been in the wreck? The Sage of Redfield had played the part +of Providence after all. And if I set out right away with Parnassus, +I could get to Port Vigor--well, by Monday morning anyway. + +The good people of the Moose Hotel were genuinely surprised at +the hurry with which I dispatched my lunch. But I gave them no +explanations. Goodness knows, my head was full of other thoughts and +the apple sauce might have been asbestos. You know, a woman only +falls in love once in her life, and if it waits until she's darn +near forty--well, it _takes!_ You see I hadn't even been vaccinated +against it by girlish flirtations. I began to be a governess when +I was just a kid, and a governess doesn't get many chances to be +skittish. So now when it came, it hit me hard. That's when a woman +finds herself--when she's in love. I don't care if she _is_ old or +fat or homely or prosy. She feels that little flutter under her ribs +and she drops from the tree like a ripe plum. I didn't care if Roger +Mifflin and I were as odd a couple as old Dr. Johnson and his wife, +I only knew one thing: that when I saw that little red devil again I +was going to be all his--if he'd have me. That's why the old Moose +Hotel in Bath is always sacred to me. That's where I learned that +life still held something fresh for me--something better than baking +champlain biscuits for Andrew. + + * * * * * * * * * + +That Sunday was one of those mellow, golden days that we New +Englanders get in October. The year really begins in March, as +every farmer knows, and by the end of September or the beginning of +October the season has come to its perfect, ripened climax. There +are a few days when the world seems to hang still in a dreaming, +sweet hush, at the very fulness of the fruit before the decline +sets in. I have no words (like Andrew) to describe it, but every +autumn for years I have noticed it. I remember that sometimes at +the farm I used to lean over the wood pile for a moment just before +supper to watch those purple October sunsets. I would hear the sharp +ting of Andrew's little typewriter bell as he was working in his +study. And then I would try to swallow down within me the beauty +and wistfulness of it all, and run back to mash the potatoes. + +Peg drew Parnassus along the backward road with a merry little +rumble. I think she knew we were going back to the Professor. +Bock careered mightily along the wayside. And I had much time for +thinking. On the whole, I was glad; for I had much to ponder. An +adventure that had started as a mere lark or whim had now become for +me the very gist of life itself. I was fanciful, I guess, and as +romantic as a young hen, but by the bones of George Eliot, I'm sorry +for the woman that never has a chance to be fanciful. Mifflin was +in jail; aye, but he might have been dead and--unrecognizable! My +heart refused to be altogether sad. I was on my way to deliver him +from durance vile. There seemed a kinship between the season and +myself, I mused, seeing the goldenrod turning bronze and droopy +along the way. Here was I, in the full fruition of womanhood, on the +verge of my decline into autumn, and lo! by the grace of God, I had +found my man, my master. He had touched me with his own fire and +courage. I didn't care what happened to Andrew, or to Sabine Farm, +or to anything else in the world. Here were my hearth and my +home--Parnassus, or wherever Roger should pitch his tent. I dreamed +of crossing the Brooklyn Bridge with him at dusk, watching the +skyscrapers etched against a burning sky. I believed in calling +things by their true names. Ink is ink, even if the bottle is marked +"commercial fluid." I didn't try to blink the fact that I was in +love. In fact, I gloried in it. As Parnassus rolled along the road, +and the scarlet maple leaves eddied gently down in the blue October +air, I made up a kind of chant which I called + + Hymn for a Middle-Aged Woman (Fat) + Who Has Fallen into Love + + O God, I thank Thee who sent this great adventure my way! + I am grateful to have come out of the barren land of + spinsterhood, seeing the glory of a love greater than myself. + I thank Thee for teaching me that mixing, and kneading, and + baking are not all that life holds for me. Even if he doesn't + love me, God, I shall always be his. + +I was crooning some such babble as this to myself when, near +Woodbridge, I came upon a big, shiny motor car stranded by the +roadside. Several people, evidently intelligent and well-to-do, +sat under a tree while their chauffeur fussed with a tire. I was +so absorbed in my own thoughts that I think I should have gone +by without paying them much heed, but suddenly I remembered the +Professor's creed--to preach the gospel of books in and out of +season. Sunday or no Sunday, I thought I could best honour Mifflin +by acting on his own principle. I pulled up by the side of the road. + +I noticed the people turn to one another in a kind of surprise, and +whisper something. There was an elderly man with a lean, hard-worked +face; a stout woman, evidently his wife; and two young girls and a +man in golfing clothes. Somehow the face of the older man seemed +familiar. I wondered whether he were some literary friend of +Andrew's whose photo I had seen. + +Bock stood by the wheel with his long, curly tongue running in and +out over his teeth. I hesitated a moment, thinking just how to +phrase my attack, when the elderly gentleman called out: + +"Where's the Professor?" + +I was beginning to realize that Mifflin was indeed a public character. + +"Heavens!" I said. "Do you know him, too?" + +"Well, I should think so," he said. "Didn't he come to see me last +spring about an appropriation for school libraries, and wouldn't +leave till I'd promised to do what he wanted! He stayed the night +with us and we talked literature till four o'clock in the morning. +Where is he now? Have you taken over Parnassus?" + +"Just at present," I said, "Mr. Mifflin is in the jail at Port Vigor." + +The ladies gave little cries of astonishment, and the gentleman +himself (I had sized him up as a school commissioner or something +of that sort) seemed not less surprised. + +"In jail!" he said. "What on earth for? Has he sandbagged somebody +for reading Nick Carter and Bertha M. Clay? That's about the only +crime he'd be likely to commit." + +"He's supposed to have cozened me out of four hundred dollars," I +said, "and my brother has had him locked up. But as a matter of fact +he wouldn't swindle a hen out of a new-laid egg. I bought Parnassus +of my own free will. I'm on my way to Port Vigor now to get him out. +Then I'm going to ask him to marry me--if he will. It's not leap +year, either." + +He looked at me, his thin, lined face working with friendliness. He +was a fine-looking man--short, gray hair brushed away from a broad, +brown forehead. I noticed his rich, dark suit and the spotless +collar. This was a man of breeding, evidently. + +"Well, Madam," he said, "any friend of the Professor is a friend of +ours." (His wife and the girls chimed in with assent.) "If you would +like a lift in our car to speed you on your errand, I'm sure Bob +here would be glad to drive Parnassus into Port Vigor. Our tire will +soon be mended." + +The young man assented heartily, but as I said before, I was bent +on taking Parnassus back myself. I thought the sight of his own +tabernacle would be the best balm for Mifflin's annoying experience. +So I refused the offer, and explained the situation a little more +fully. + +"Well," he said, "then let me help in any way I can." He took a +card from his pocket-book and scribbled something on it. "When you +get to Port Vigor," he said, "show this at the jail and I don't +think you'll have any trouble. I happen to know the people there." + +So after a hand-shake all round I went on again, much cheered by +this friendly little incident. It wasn't till I was some way along +the road that I thought of looking at the card he had given me. Then +I realized why the man's face had been familiar. The card read quite +simply: + +RALEIGH STONE STAFFORD + +The Executive Mansion, +Darlington. + +It was the Governor of the State! + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + + +I couldn't help chuckling, as Parnassus came over the brow of the +hill, and I saw the river in the distance once more. How different +all this was from my girlhood visions of romance. That has been +characteristic of my life all along--it has been full of homely, +workaday happenings, and often rather comic in spite of my best +resolves to be highbrow and serious. All the same I was something +near to tears as I thought of the tragic wreck at Willdon and the +grief-laden hearts that must be mourning. I wondered whether the +Governor was now returning from Willdon after ordering an inquiry. + +On his card he had written: "Please release R. Mifflin at once +and show this lady all courtesies." So I didn't anticipate any +particular trouble. This made me all the more anxious to push on, +and after crossing the ferry we halted in Woodbridge only long +enough for supper. I drove past the bank where I had waited in the +anteroom, and would have been glad of a chance to horsewhip that +sneaking little cashier. I wondered how they had transported the +Professor to Port Vigor, and thought ironically that it was only +that Saturday morning when he had suggested taking the hoboes to +the same jail. Still I do not doubt that his philosophic spirit +had made the best of it all. + +Woodbridge was as dead as any country town is on Sunday night. +At the little hotel where I had supper there was no topic of +conversation except the wreck. But the proprietor, when I paid +my bill, happened to notice Parnassus in the yard. + +"That's the bus that pedlar sold you, ain't it?" he asked with +a leer. + +"Yes," I said, shortly. + +"Goin' back to prosecute him, I guess?" he suggested. "Say, that +feller's a devil, believe _me_. When the sheriff tried to put the +cuffs on him he gave him a black eye and pretty near broke his +jaw. Some scrapper fer a midget!" + +My own brave little fighter, I thought, and flushed with pride. + +The road back to Port Vigor seemed endless. I was a little nervous, +remembering the tramps in Pratt's quarry, but with Bock sitting +beside me on the seat I thought it craven to be alarmed. We rumbled +gently through the darkness, between aisles of inky pines where the +strip of starlight ran like a ribbon overhead, then on the rolling +dunes that overlook the water. There was a moon, too, but I was +mortally tired and lonely and longed only to see my little Redbeard. +Peg was weary, too, and plodded slowly. It must have been midnight +before we saw the red and green lights of the railway signals and I +knew that Port Vigor was at hand. + +I decided to camp where I was. I guided Peg into a field beside the +road, hitched her to a fence, and took the dog into the van with me. +I was too tired to undress. I fell into the bunk and drew the +blankets over me. As I did so, something dropped down behind the +bunk with a sharp rap. It was a forgotten corncob pipe of the +Professor's, blackened and sooty. I put it under my pillow, and +fell asleep. + +Monday, October seventh. If this were a novel about some charming, +slender, pansy-eyed girl, how differently I would have to describe +the feelings with which I woke the next morning. But these being +only a few pages from the life of a fat, New England housewife, I +must be candid. I woke feeling dull and sour. The day was gray and +cool: faint shreds of mist sifting up from the Sound and a desolate +mewing of seagulls in the air. I was unhappy, upset, and--yes--shy. +Passionately I yearned to run to the Professor, to gather him into +my arms, to be alone with him in Parnassus, creaking up some sunny +by-road. But his words came back to me: I was nothing to him. What +if he didn't love me after all? + +I walked across two fields, down to the beach where little waves +were slapping against the shingle. I washed my face and hands in +salt water. Then I went back to Parnassus and brewed some coffee +with condensed milk. I gave Peg and Bock their breakfasts. Then I +hitched Peg to the van again, and felt better. As I drove into the +town I had to wait at the grade crossing while a wrecking train +rumbled past, on its way back from Willdon. That meant that the +line was clear again. I watched the grimy men on the cars, and +shuddered to think what they had been doing. + +The Vigor county jail lies about a mile out of the town, an ugly, +gray stone barracks with a high, spiked wall about it. I was +thankful that it was still fairly early in the morning, and I drove +through the streets without seeing any one I knew. Finally I reached +the gate in the prison wall. Here some kind of a keeper barred my +way. "Can't get in, lady," he said. "Yesterday was visitors' day. +No more visitors till next month." + +"I _must_ get in," I said. "You've got a man in there on a +false charge." + +"So they all say," he retorted, calmly, and spat halfway across the +road. "You wouldn't believe any of our boarders had a right to be +here if you could hear their friends talk." + +I showed him Governor Stafford's card. He was rather impressed +by this, and retired into a sentry-box in the wall--to telephone, +I suppose. + +Presently he came back. + +"The sheriff says he'll see you, ma'am. But you'll have to leave +this here dynamite caboose behind." He unlocked a little door in the +immense iron gate, and turned me over to another man inside. "Take +this here lady to the sheriff," he said. + +Some of Vigor county's prisoners must have learned to be pretty good +gardeners, for certainly the grounds were in good condition. The +grass was green and trimly mowed; there were conventional beds of +flowers in very ugly shapes; in the distance I saw a gang of men +in striped overalls mending a roadway. The guide led me to an +attractive cottage to one side of the main building. There were two +children playing outside, and I remember thinking that within the +walls of a jail was surely a queer place to bring up youngsters. + +But I had other things to think about. I looked up at that grim, +gray building. Behind one of those little barred windows was the +Professor. I should have been angry at Andrew, but somehow it all +seemed a kind of dream. Then I was taken into the hallway of the +sheriff's cottage and in a minute I was talking to a big, +bull-necked man with a political moustache. + +"You have a prisoner here called Roger Mifflin?" I said. + +"My dear Madam, I don't keep a list of all our inmates in my +head. If you will come to the office we will look up the records." + +I showed him the Governor's card. He took it and kept looking at it +as though he expected to see the message written there change or +fade away. We walked across a strip of lawn to the prison building. +There, in a big bare office, he ran over a card index. + +"Here we are," he said. "Roger Mifflin; age, 41; face, oval; +complexion, florid; hair, red but not much of it; height, 64 +inches; weight, stripped, 120; birthmark...." + +"Never mind," I said. "That's the man. What's he here for?" + +"He's held in default of bail, pending trial. The charge is attempt +to defraud one Helen McGill, spinster, age..." + +"Rubbish!" I said. "I'm Helen McGill, and the man made no attempt to +defraud me." + +"The charge was entered and warrant applied for by your brother, +Andrew McGill, acting on your behalf." + +"I never authorized Andrew to act on my behalf." + +"Then do you withdraw the charge?" + +"By all means," I said. "I've a great mind to enter a counter-charge +against Andrew and have _him_ arrested." + +"This is all very irregular," said the sheriff, "but if the prisoner +is known to the Governor, I suppose there is no alternative. I +cannot annul the warrant without some recognizance. According to +the laws of this State the next of kin must stand surety for the +prisoner's good behaviour after release. There is no next of kin...." + +"Surely there is!" I said. "I am the prisoner's next of kin." + +"What do you mean?" he said. "In what relationship do you +stand to this Roger Mifflin?" + +"I intend to marry him just as soon as I can get him away from here." + +He burst into a roar of laughter. "I guess there's no stopping you," +he said. He pinned the Governor's card to a blue paper on the desk, +and began filling in some blanks. + +"Well, Miss McGill," he went on, "don't take away more than one of +my prisoners or I'll lose my job. The turnkey will take you up to +the cell. I'm exceedingly sorry: you can see that the mistake was +none of our fault. Tell the Governor that, will you, when you see +him?" + +I followed the attendant up two flights of bare, stone stairs, and +down a long, whitewashed corridor. It was a gruesome place; rows +and rows of heavy doors with little, barred windows. I noticed +that each door had a combination knob, like a safe. My knees felt +awfully shaky. + +But it wasn't really so heart-throbby as I had expected. The jailer +stopped at the end of a long passageway. He spun the clicking dial, +while I waited in a kind of horror. I think I expected to see the +Professor with shaved head (they couldn't shave much off his head, +poor lamb!) and striped canvas suit, and a ball and chain on his +ankle. + +The door swung open heavily. There was a narrow, clean little room +with a low camp bed, and under the barred window a table strewn with +sheets of paper. It was the Professor in his own clothes, writing +busily, with his back toward me. Perhaps he thought it was only +an attendant with food, or perhaps he didn't even hear the +interruption. I could hear his pen running busily. I might have +known you never would get any heroics out of that man! Trust him +to make the best of it! + +"Lemon sole and a glass of sherry, please, James," said the +Professor over his shoulder, and the warder, who evidently had +joked with him before, broke into a cackle of laughter. + +"A lady to see yer Lordship," he said. + +The Professor turned round. His face went quite white. For the first +time in my experience of him he seemed to be at a loss for speech. + +"Miss--Miss McGill," he stammered. "You _are_ the good Samaritan. +I'm doing the John Bunyan act, see? Writing in prison. I've really +started my book at last. And I find the fellows here know nothing +whatever about literature. There isn't even a library in the place." + +For the life of me, I couldn't utter the tenderness in my heart with +that gorilla of a jailer standing behind us. + +Somehow we made our way downstairs, after the Professor had gathered +together the sheets of his manuscript. It had already reached +formidable proportions, as he had written fifty pages in the +thirty-six hours he had been in prison. In the office we had to sign +some papers. The sheriff was very apologetic to Mifflin, and offered +to take him back to town in his car, but I explained that Parnassus +was waiting at the gate. The Professor's eyes brightened when he +heard that, but I had to hurry him away from an argument about +putting good books in prisons. The sheriff walked with us to the +gate and there shook hands again. + +Peg whickered as we came up to her, and the Professor patted her +soft nose. Bock tugged at his chain in a frenzy of joy. At last we +were alone. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + + +I never knew just how it happened. Instead of driving back through +Port Vigor, we turned into a side road leading up over the hill and +across the heath where the air came fresh and sweet from the sea. +The Professor sat very silent, looking about him. There was a grove +of birches on the hill, and the sunlight played upon their satin +boles. + +"It feels good to be out again," he said calmly. "The Sage cannot +be so keen a lover of open air as his books would indicate, or he +wouldn't be so ready to clap a man into quod. Perhaps I owe him +another punch on the nose for that." + +"Oh, Roger," I said--and I'm afraid my voice was trembly--"I'm +_sorry_. I'm _sorry_." + +Not very eloquent, was it? And then, somehow or other, his arm was +around me. + +"Helen," he said. "Will you marry me? I'm not rich, but I've saved +up enough to live on. We'll always have Parnassus, and this winter +we'll go and live in Brooklyn and write the book. And we'll travel +around with Peg, and preach the love of books and the love of human +beings. Helen--you're just what I need, God bless you. Will you come +with me and make me the happiest bookseller in the world?" + +Peg must have been astonished at the length of time she had for +cropping the grass, undisturbed. I know that Roger and I sat +careless of time. And when he told me that ever since our first +afternoon together he had determined to have me, sooner or later, +I was the proudest woman in New England. I told Roger about the +ghastly wreck, and my agony of apprehension. I think it was the +wreck that made us both feel inclined to forgive Andrew. + +We had a light luncheon together there on the dunes above the Sound. +By taking a short cut over the ridge we struck into the Shelby road +without going down into Port Vigor again. Peg pulled us along toward +Greenbriar, and we talked as we went. + +Perhaps the best of it was that a cold drizzle of rain began to fall +as we moved along the hill road. The Professor--as I still call him, +by force of habit--curtined in the front of the van with a rubber +sheet. Bock hopped up and curled himself aginst his master's leg. +Roger got out his corncob pipe, and I sat close to him. In the +gathering gloom we plodded along, as happy a trio--or quartet, if +you include fat, cheery old Peg--as any on this planet. Summer was +over, and we were no longer young, but there were great things +before us. I listened to the drip of the rain, and the steady creak +of Parnassus on her axles. I thought of my "anthology" of loaves of +bread and vowed to bake a million more if Roger wanted me to. It was +after supper time when we got to Greenbriar. Roger had suggested +that we take a shorter road that would have brought us through to +Redfield sooner, but I begged him to go by way of Shelby and +Greenbriar, just as we had come before. I did not tell him why I +wanted this. And when finally we came to a halt in front of Kirby's +store at the crossroads it was raining heavily and we were ready for +a rest. + +"Well, sweetheart," said Roger, "shall we go and see what sort of +rooms the hotel has?" + +"I can think of something better than that," said I. "Let's go up to +Mr. Kane and have him marry us. Then we can get back to Sabine Farm +afterward, and give Andrew a surprise." + +"By the bones of Hymen!" said Roger. "You're right!" + +It must have been ten o'clock when we turned in at the red gate +of Sabine Farm. The rain had stopped, but the wheels sloshed +through mud and water at every turn. The light was burning in the +sitting-room, and through the window I could see Andrew bent over +his work table. We climbed out, stiff and sore from the long ride. +I saw Roger's face set in a comical blend of sternness and humour. + +"Well, here goes to surprise the Sage!" he whispered. + +We picked our way between puddles and rapped on the door. Andrew +appeared, carrying the lamp in one hand. When he saw us he grunted. + +"Let me introduce my wife," said Roger. + +"Well, I'll be damned," said Andrew. + +But Andrew isn't quite so black as I've painted him. When he's +once convinced of the error of his ways, he is almost pathetically +eager to make up. I remember only one remark in the subsequent +conversation, because I was so appalled by the state of everything +at Sabine Farm that I immediately set about putting the house to +rights. The two men, however, as soon as Parnassus was housed in +the barn and the animals under cover, sat down by the stove to talk +things over. + +"I tell you what," said Andrew--"do whatever you like with your +wife; she's too much for me. But I'd like to buy that Parnassus." + +"Not on your life!" said the Professor. + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Parnassus on Wheels, by Christopher Morley + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARNASSUS ON WHEELS *** + +This file should be named prnsw10.txt or prnsw10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, prnsw11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, prnsw10a.txt + +Digitized by Cardinalis Press, C.E.K. +Prepared for Project Gutenberg by Andrew Sly + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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