It must weigh more than a coal wagon."
"Oh, Peg can manage it all right," he said. "We don't travel
very fast. But look here, I want to sell out. Do you suppose
your husband would buy the outfit--Parnassus, Pegasus, and
all? He's fond of books, isn't he?
"Hold on a minute!" I said. "Andrew's my brother, not my
husband, and he's altogether _too_ fond of books. Books'll be
the ruin of this farm pretty soon. He's mooning about over
his books like a sitting hen about half the time, when he
ought to be mending harness. Lord, if he saw this wagonload
of yours he'd be unsettled for a week. I have to stop the
postman down the road and take all the publishers' catalogues
out of the mail so that Andrew don't see 'em. I'm mighty glad
he's not here just now, I can tell you!"
I'm not literary, as I said before, but I'm human enough to like
a good book, and my eye was running along those shelves of his as
I spoke. He certainly had a pretty miscellaneous collection.
I noticed poetry, essays, novels, cook books, juveniles, school
books, Bibles, and what not--all jumbled together.
"Well, see here," said the little man--and about this time I
noticed that he had the bright eyes of a fanatic--"I've been
cruising with this Parnassus going on seven years.
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