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 you cajoled my sister away to go vagabonding in a
huckster's wagon, but I know this, that if you've cheated her
out of her money I'll have the law on you.
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