Bock trotted sedately at his heels. I halted Peg.
"Well," I said, "what's happened to Andrew?"
The Professor still looked a bit shamefaced. "The Sage is a
tenacious person," he said. "We argued for a bit without much
satisfaction. As a matter of fact we nearly came to blows
again, only he got another waft of goldenrod, which started
him sneezing, and then his nose began bleeding once more. He
is convinced that I'm a ruffian, and said so in excellent
prose. Honestly, I admire him a great deal. I believe he
intends to have the law on me. I gave him my Brooklyn address
in case he wants to follow the matter up. I think I rather
pleased him by asking him to autograph `Happiness and Hayseed'
for me. I found it lying in the ditch."
"Well," I said, "you two are certainly a great pair of
lunatics. You both ought to go on the stage. You'd be as
good as Weber and Fields. Did he give you the autograph?"
He pulled the book out of his pocket. Scrawled in it in
pencil were the words _I have shed blood for Mr. Mifflin.
Andrew McGill_.
"I shall read the book again with renewed interest," said
Mifflin. "May I get in?"
"By all means," I said. "There's Port Vigor in front of us.
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