I was beginning to feel as if this gipsy
existence were the normal course of my life.
"Well, Professor," I said, as I handed him a cup of coffee and
a plate of scrambled eggs and cheese, "for a man who slept in
a wet haystack, you acquit yourself with excellent valour."
"Old Parnassus is quite a stormy petrel," he said. "I used to
think the chief difficulty in writing a book would be to
invent things to happen, but if I were to sit down and write
the adventures I'd had with her it would be a regular Odyssey."
"How about Peg's foot?" I asked. "Can she travel on it?"
"It'll be all right if you go easy. I've scraped out the
injured part and put the shoe back. I keep a little kit of
tools under the van for emergencies of all sorts."
It was chilly, and we didn't dawdle over our meal. I only
made a feint of eating, as I had had a little breakfast
before, and also as the events of the last few hours had left
me rather restless. I wanted to get Parnassus out on the
highway again, to jog along in the sun and think things over.
The quarry was a desolate, forbidding place anyway. But
before we left we explored the cave where the tramps had been
preparing to make themselves comfortable for the winter.
Pages:
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121