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.