Parnassus on Wheels | Page 6

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