Andrew had driven over to town
to get some flour and feed and wouldn't be back till noontime.
Being a Monday, Mrs. McNally, the washerwoman, had come over
to take care of the washing. I remember I was just on my way
out to the wood pile for a few sticks of birch when I heard
wheels turn in at the gate. There was one of the fattest
white horses I ever saw, and a queer wagon, shaped like a van.
A funny-looking little man with a red beard leaned forward
from the seat and said something. I didn't hear what it was,
I was looking at that preposterous wagon of his.
It was coloured a pale, robin's-egg blue, and on the side, in
big scarlet letters, was painted:
R. MIFFLIN'S
TRAVELLING PARNASSUS
GOOD BOOKS FOR SALE
SHAKESPEARE, CHARLES LAMB, R. L. S.
HAZLITT, AND ALL OTHERS
Underneath the wagon, in slings, hung what looked like a tent,
together with a lantern, a bucket, and other small things.
The van had a raised skylight on the roof, something like an
old-fashioned trolley car; and from one corner went up a stove
pipe. At the back was a door with little windows on each side
and a flight of steps leading up to it.
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