The rain had stopped, but the wheels sloshed
through mud and water at every turn. The light was burning in the
sitting-room, and through the window I could see Andrew bent over
his work table. We climbed out, stiff and sore from the long ride.
I saw Roger's face set in a comical blend of sternness and humour.
"Well, here goes to surprise the Sage!" he whispered.
We picked our way between puddles and rapped on the door. Andrew
appeared, carrying the lamp in one hand. When he saw us he grunted.
"Let me introduce my wife," said Roger.
"Well, I'll be damned," said Andrew.
But Andrew isn't quite so black as I've painted him. When he's
once convinced of the error of his ways, he is almost pathetically
eager to make up. I remember only one remark in the subsequent
conversation, because I was so appalled by the state of everything
at Sabine Farm that I immediately set about putting the house to
rights. The two men, however, as soon as Parnassus was housed in
the barn and the animals under cover, sat down by the stove to talk
things over.
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