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.