"
The hill road from Shelby to Port Vigor is a lonely one, as
most of the farmhouses lie down in the valley. If I had known
better we might have taken the longer and more populous way,
but as a matter of fact I was enjoying the wide view and the
solitary road lying white in the sunshine. We jogged along
very pleasantly. Once more we stopped at a house where
Mifflin pleaded for a chance to exercise his art. I was much
amused when he succeeded in selling a copy of "Grimm's Fairy
Tales" to a shrewish spinster on the plea that she would enjoy
reading the stories to her nephews and nieces who were coming
to visit her.
"My!" he chuckled, as he gave me the dingy quarter he had
extracted. "There's nothing in that book as grim as she is!"
A little farther on we halted by a roadside spring to give Peg
a drink, and I suggested lunch. I had laid in some bread and
cheese in Shelby, and with this and some jam we made excellent
sandwiches. As we were sitting by the fence the motor stage
trundled past on its way to Port Vigor. A little distance
down the road it halted, and then went on again. I saw a
familiar figure walking back toward us.
"Now I'm in for it," I said to the Professor.
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