There's roast pork for dinner."

"And apple sauce?" said the little man.

"Apple sauce and brown gravy," I said.  "That's why I'm sure
he'll be home on time.  Sometimes he's late when there's
boiled dinner, but never on roast pork days.  Andrew would
never do for a rabbi."

A sudden suspicion struck me.

"You're not another publisher, are you?" I cried.  "What do
you want with Andrew?"

"I was wondering whether he wouldn't buy this outfit," said
the little man, including, with a wave of the hand, both van
and white horse.  As he spoke he released a hook somewhere,
and raised the whole side of his wagon like a flap.  Some kind
of catch clicked, the flap remained up like a roof, displaying
nothing but books--rows and rows of them.  The flank of his
van was nothing but a big bookcase.  Shelves stood above
shelves, all of them full of books--both old and new.  As I
stood gazing, he pulled out a printed card from somewhere and
gave it to me:

                       ROGER MIFFLIN'S
                    TRAVELLING PARNASSUS

               Worthy friends, my wain doth hold
               Many a book, both new and old;
               Books, the truest friends of man,
               Fill this rolling caravan.
               Books to satisfy all uses,
               Golden lyrics of the Muses,
               Books on cookery and farming,
               Novels passionate and charming,
               Every kind for every need
               So that he who buys may read.
               What librarian can surpass us?

                    MIFFLIN'S TRAVELLING
                          PARNASSUS

                   By R. Mifflin, Prop'r.

              Star Job Print, Celeryville, Va.

While I was chuckling over this, he had raised a similar flap
on the other side of the Parnassus which revealed still more
shelves loaded with books.

I'm afraid I am severely practical by nature.

"Well!" I said, "I should think you _would_ need a pretty stout
steed to lug that load along.  It must weigh more than a coal wagon."

"Oh, Peg can manage it all right," he said.  "We don't travel
very fast.  But look here, I want to sell out.  Do you suppose
your husband would buy the outfit--Parnassus, Pegasus, and
all?  He's fond of books, isn't he?

"Hold on a minute!" I said.  "Andrew's my brother, not my
husband, and he's altogether _too_ fond of books.  Books'll be
the ruin of this farm pretty soon.  He's mooning about over
his books like a sitting hen about half the time, when he
ought to be mending harness.  Lord, if he saw this wagonload
of yours he'd be unsettled for a week.  I have to stop the
postman down the road and take all the publishers' catalogues
out of the mail so that Andrew don't see 'em.  I'm mighty glad
he's not here just now, I can tell you!"

I'm not literary, as I said before, but I'm human enough to like
a good book, and my eye was running along those shelves of his as
I spoke.  He certainly had a pretty miscellaneous collection.
I noticed poetry, essays, novels, cook books, juveniles, school
books, Bibles, and what not--all jumbled together.

"Well, see here," said the little man--and about this time I
noticed that he had the bright eyes of a fanatic--"I've been
cruising with this Parnassus going on seven years.  I've
covered the territory from Florida to Maine and I reckon I've
injected about as much good literature into the countryside as
ever old Doc Eliot did with his five-foot shelf.  I want to
sell out now.  I'm going to write a book about `Literature
Among the Farmers,' and want to settle down with my brother in
Brooklyn and write it.  I've got a sackful of notes for it.
I guess I'll just stick around until Mr. McGill gets home and
see if he won't buy me out.  I'll sell the whole concern,
horse, wagon, and books, for $400.  I've read Andrew McGill's
stuff and I reckon the proposition'll interest him.  I've had
more fun with this Parnassus than a barrel of monkeys.  I used to
be a school teacher till my health broke down.  Then I took this
up and I've made more than expenses and had the time of my life."

"Well, Mr. Mifflin," I said, "if you want to stay around I
guess I can't stop you.  But I'm sorry you and your old
Parnassus ever came this way."

I turned on my heel and went back to the kitchen.  I knew
pretty well that Andrew would go up in the air when he saw