Parnassus on Wheels | Page 5

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