Parnassus on Wheels by Christopher Morley Read Free Book Online Page A

amusement
that the Professor had painted out the line about Shakespeare,
Charles Lamb, and so on, and had substituted new lettering. The
sign now read:
    H. MCGILL'S
TRAVELLING PARNASSUS
GOOD BOOKS FOR SALE
COOK BOOKS A SPECIALTY
INQUIRE WITHIN
    Evidently he distrusted my familiarity with the classics.
    I paid my bill at the desk, and was careful also to pay the charge
for putting up the horse and van overnight. Then I strolled into the
stable yard, where I found Mr. Mifflin regarding his handiwork with
satisfaction. He had freshened up all the red lettering, which shone
brilliantly in the morning sunlight.
    "Good-morning," I said.
    He returned it.
    "There!" he cried—"Parnassus is really yours! All the world lies
before you! And I've got some more money for you. I sold some books
last night. I persuaded the hotel keeper to buy several volumes of
O. Henry for his smoking-room shelf, and I sold the 'Waldorf Cook
Book' to the cook. My! wasn't her coffee awful? I hope the cook book
will better it."
    He handed me two limp bills and a handful of small change. I took it
gravely and put it in my purse. This was really not bad—more than
ten dollars in less than twenty-four hours.
    "Parnassus seems to be a gold mine," I said.
    "Which way do you think you'll go?" he asked.
    "Well, as I know you want to get to Port Vigor I might just as well
give you a lift that way," I answered.
    "Good! I was hoping you'd say that. They tell me the stage for Port
Vigor doesn't leave till noon, and I think it would kill me to hang
around here all morning with no books to sell. Once I get on the
train I'll be all right."
    Bock was tied up in a corner of the yard, under the side door of the
hotel. I went over to release him while the Professor was putting
Peg into harness. As I stooped to unfasten the chain from his collar
I heard some one talking through the telephone. The hotel lobby was
just over my head, and the window was open.
    "What did you say?"
    "—- —- —- —-"
    "McGill? Yes, sir, registered here last night. She's here now."
    I didn't wait to hear more. Unfastening Bock, I hurried to tell
Mifflin. His eyes sparkled.
    "The Sage is evidently on our spoor," he chuckled. "Well, let's be
off. I don't see what he can do even if he overhauls us."
    The clerk was calling me from the window: "Miss McGill, your
brother's on the wire and asks to speak to you."
    "Tell him I'm busy," I retorted, and climbed onto the seat. It was
not a diplomatic reply, I'm afraid, but I was too exhilarated by
the keen morning and the spirit of adventure to stop to think of a
better answer. Mifflin clucked to Peg, and off we went.
    The road from Shelby to Port Vigor runs across the broad hill slopes
that trend toward the Sound; and below, on our left, the river lay
glittering in the valley. It was a perfect landscape: the woods
were all bronze and gold; the clouds were snowy white and seemed
like heavenly washing hung out to air; the sun was warm and swam
gloriously in an arch of superb blue. My heart was uplifted indeed.
For the first time, I think, I knew how Andrew feels on those
vagabond trips of his. Why had all this been hidden from me before?
Why had the transcendent mystery of baking bread blinded me so long
to the mysteries of sun and sky and wind in the trees? We passed a
white farmhouse close to the road. By the gate sat the farmer on a
log, whittling a stick and smoking his pipe. Through the kitchen
window I could see a woman blacking the stove. I wanted to cry out:
"Oh, silly woman! Leave your stove, your pots and pans and chores,
even if only for one day! Come out and see the sun in the sky and
the river in the distance!" The farmer looked blankly at Parnassus
as we passed, and then I remembered my mission as a distributor
of literature. Mifflin was sitting with one foot on his bulging
portmanteau, watching the tree tops rocking in the cool wind. He
seemed to be far away in a morning muse. I threw down the reins and
accosted the farmer.
    "Good-morning,