Parnassus on Wheels Read Free Page B

Redfield
some of his own medicine.
    My balance at the Redfield National Bank was $615.20. I sat down at
the table in my bedroom where I keep my accounts and wrote out a
check to Roger Mifflin for $400. I put in plenty of curlicues after
the figures so that no one could raise the check into $400,000; then
I got out my old rattan suit case and put in some clothes. The whole
business didn't take me ten minutes. I came downstairs to find Mrs.
McNally looking sourly at the Parnassus from the kitchen door.
    "You going away in that—that 'bus, Mis' McGill?" she asked.
    "Yes, Mrs. McNally," I said cheerfully. Her use of the word gave me
an inspiration. "That's one of the new jitney 'buses we hear about.
He's going to take me to the station. Don't you worry about me. I'm
going for a holiday. You get Mr. McGill's dinner ready for him.
After dinner tell him there's a note for him in the living-room."
    "I tank that bane a queer 'bus," said Mrs. McNally, puzzled. I think
the excellent woman suspected an elopement.
    I carried my suit case out to the Parnassus. Pegasus stood placidly
between the shafts. From within came sounds of vigorous movement. In
a moment the little man burst out with a bulging portmanteau in his
hand. He had a tweed cap slanted on the back of his head.
    "There!" he cried triumphantly. "I've packed all my personal effects
clothes and so on—and everything else goes with the transaction.
When I get on the train with this bag I'm a free man, and hurrah for
Brooklyn! Lord, won't I be glad to get back to the city! I lived in
Brooklyn once, and I haven't been back there for ten years," he
added plaintively.
    "Here's the check," I said, handing it to him. He flushed a little,
and looked at me rather shamefacedly. "See here," he said, "I hope
you're not making a bad bargain? I don't want to take advantage of a
lady. If you think your brother...."
    "I was going to buy a Ford, anyway," I said, "and it looks to me
as though this parcheesi of yours would be cheaper to run than any
flivver that ever came out of Detroit. I want to keep it away from
Andrew and that's the main thing. You give me a receipt and we'll
get away from here before he comes back."
    He took the check without a word, hoisted his fat portmanteau on the
driver's seat, and then disappeared in the van. In a minute he
reappeared. On the back of one of his poetical cards he had written:
    Received from Miss McGill the sum of four hundred dollars in
exchange for one Travelling Parnassus in first class condition,
delivered to her this day, October 3rd, 19—.
    Signed
ROGER MIFFLIN.
    "Tell me," I said, "does your Parnassus—
my
Parnassus,
rather—contain everything I'm likely to need? Is it stocked up
with food and so on?"
    "I was coming to that," he said. "You'll find a fair supply of stuff
in the cupboard over the stove, though I used to get most of my
meals at farmhouses along the road. I generally read aloud to people
as I go along, and they're often good for a free meal. It's amazing
how little most of the country folk know about books, and how
pleased they are to hear good stuff. Down in Lancaster County,
Pennsylvania...."
    "Well, how about the horse?" I said hastily, seeing him about to
embark on an anecdote. It wasn't far short of eleven o'clock, and I
was anxious to get started.
    "It might be well to take along some oats. My supply's about
exhausted."
    I filled a sack with oats in the stable and Mr. Mifflin showed me
where to hang it under the van. Then in the kitchen I loaded a big
basket with provisions for an emergency: a dozen eggs, a jar of
sliced bacon, butter, cheese, condensed milk, tea, biscuits, jam,
and two loaves of bread. These Mr. Mifflin stowed inside the van,
Mrs. McNally watching in amazement.
    "I tank this bane a queer picnic!" she said. "Which way are you
going? Mr. McGill, is he coming after you?"
    "No," I insisted, "he's not coming. I'm going off on a holiday. You
get dinner for him and he won't worry about anything until after
that.