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