Mr. Mifflin is on his way to Port Vigor where he takes the
train to Brooklyn."
Andrew stared at the Professor without speaking. I could tell by the
blaze in his light-blue eyes that he was thoroughly angry, and I
feared things would be worse before they were better. Andrew is slow
to wrath, but a very hard person to deal with when roused. And I had
some inkling by this time of the Professor's temperament. Moreover,
I am afraid that some of my remarks had rather prejudiced him
against Andrew, as a brother at any rate and apart from his
excellent prose.
Mifflin had the next word. He had taken off his funny little cap,
and his bare skull shone like an egg. I noticed a little sort of
fairy ring of tiny drops around his crown.
"My dear sir," said Mifflin, "the proceedings look somewhat unusual,
but the facts are simple to narrate. Your sister has bought this van
and its contents, and I have been instructing her in my theories of
the dissemination of good books. You as a literary man..."
Andrew paid absolutely no attention to the Professor, and I saw a
slow flush tinge Mifflin's sallow cheek.
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