At last he turned to
Mifflin who was sitting bald-headed with a flushed face and very
bright eyes. Andrew took him all in, the shabby Norfolk jacket, the
bulging memorandum book in his pocket, the stuffed portmanteau under
his foot, even the copy of "Happiness and Hayseed" which had dropped
to the floor and lay back up.
"Look here, you," said Andrew, "I don't know by what infernal arts
you cajoled my sister away to go vagabonding in a huckster's wagon,
but I know this, that if you've cheated her out of her money I'll
have the law on you."
I tried to insert a word of protest, but matters had gone too far.
The Professor was as mad as Andrew now.
"By the bones of Piers Plowman," he said, "I had expected to meet a
man of letters and the author of this book"--he held up "Happiness
and Hayseed"--"but I see I was mistaken. I tell you, sir, a man who
would insult his sister before a stranger, as you have done, is an
oaf and a cad." He threw the book over the hedge, and before I could
say a word he had vaulted over the off wheel and ran round behind
the van.
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