This solitary vagabonding business
was a bit sudden after fifteen years of home life. The road
lay close to the water and I watched the Sound grow a deeper
blue and then a dull purple. I could hear the surf pounding,
and on the end of Long Island a far-away lighthouse showed a
ruby spark. I thought of the little gingersnap roaring toward
New York on the express, and wondered whether he was
travelling in a Pullman or a day coach. A Pullman chair would
feel easy after that hard Parnassus seat.
By and by we neared a farmhouse which I took to be Mr.
Pratt's. It stood close to the road, with a big, red barn
behind and a gilt weathervane representing a galloping horse.
Curiously enough Peg seemed to recognize the place, for she
turned in at the gate and neighed vigorously. It must have
been a favourite stopping place for the Professor.
Through a lighted window I could see people sitting around a
table. Evidently the Pratts were at supper. I drew up in the
yard. Some one looked out of a window, and I heard a girl's voice:
"Why, Pa, here's Parnassus!"
Gingersnap must have been a welcome visitor at that farm, for
in an instant the whole family turned out with a great
scraping of chairs and clatter of dishes.
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