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There was no book in the library which had not been read many times. Some were falling apart, and others had been carefully sewn together and awkwardly rebound. Still open, on a rickety table in the corner, was that ponderous volume with an extremely limited circulation: The Publishers Trade List Annual . Pencilled crosses here and there indicated books to be purchased, or at least sent on approval, to customers known to the House.
Some day, said Dorothy, when its raining and we cant go out, well take down all these books, arrange them in something like order, and catalogue them.
How optimistic you are! remarked Harlan. Do you think it could be done in one day?
Oh, well, returned Dorothy; you know what I mean.
Harlan paced restlessly back and forth, pausing now and then to look out of the window, where nothing much was to be seen except the orchard, at a little distance from the house, and Claudius Tiberius, sunning himself pleasantly upon the porch. Four weeks had been a pleasant vacation, but two weeks of comparative idleness, added to it, were too much for an active mind and body to endure. Three or four times he had tried to begin the book that was to bring fame and fortune, and as many times had failed. Hitherto Harlans work had not been obliged to wait for inspiration, and it was not so easy as it had seemed the day he bade his managing editor farewell.
Somebody is coming, announced Dorothy, from the window.
Nonsense! Nobody ever comes here.
A precedent is about to be established, then. I feel it in my bones that were going to have company.
Lets see. Harlan went to the window and looked over her shoulder. A little man in a huge silk hat was toiling up the hill, aided by a cane. He was bent and old, yet he moved with a certain briskness, and, as Dorothy had said, he was inevitably coming.
Who in thunder began Harlan.
Our first company, interrupted Dorothy, with her hand over his mouth. The very first person who has called on us since we were married!
Except Claudius Tiberius, amended Harlan. Isnt a cat anybody?
Claudius is. I beg his imperial pardon for forgetting him.
The rusty bell-wire creaked, then a timid ring came from the rear depths of the house. You let him in, said Dorothy, and Ill go and fix my hair.
Am I right, queried the old gentleman, when Harlan opened the door, in presuming that I am so fortunate as to address Mr. James Harlan Carr?
My name is Carr, answered Harlan, politely. Will you come in?
Thank you, answered the visitor, in high staccato, oblivious of the fact that Claudius Tiberius had scooted in between his feet; it will be my pleasure to claim your hospitality for a few brief moments.
I had hoped, he went on, as Harlan ushered him into the parlour, to be able to make your acquaintance before this, but my multitudinous duties
He fumbled in his pocket and produced a card, cut somewhat irregularly from a sheet of white cardboard, and bearing in tremulous autographic script: Jeremiah Bradford, Counsellor at Law.
Oh, said Harlan, it was you who wrote me the letter. I should have hunted you up when I first came, shouldnt I?
Not at all, returned Mr. Bradford. It is I who have been remiss. It is etiquette that the old residents should call first upon the newcomers. Many and varied duties in connection with the practice of my profession have hitherto His eyes sought the portrait over the mantel. A most excellent likeness of your worthy uncle, he continued, irrelevantly, a gentleman with whom, as I understand, you never had the pleasure and privilege of becoming acquainted.
I never met Uncle Ebeneezer, rejoined Harlan, but mother told me a great deal about him and we had one or two pictures daguerreotypes, I believe they were.
Undoubtedly, my dear sir. This portrait was painted from his very last daguerreotype by an artist of renown. It is a wonderful likeness. He was my Colonel I served under him in the war. It was my desire to possess a portrait of him in uniform, but he would never consent, and would not allow anyone save myself to address him as Colonel. An eccentric,
but very estimable gentleman.
I cannot understand, said Harlan, why he should have left the house to me. I had never even seen him.
Perhaps, smiled Mr. Bradford, enigmatically, that was his reason, or rather, perhaps I should say, if you had known your uncle more intimately and had visited him here, or, if he had had the privilege of knowing you quite often, as you know, a personal acquaintance proves disappointing, though, of course, in this case
The old gentleman was floundering helplessly when Harlan rescued him. I want you to meet my wife, Mr. Bradford. If you will excuse me, I will call her.
Left to himself, the visitor slipped back and forth uneasily upon his haircloth chair, and took occasion to observe Claudius Tiberius, who sat near by and regarded the guest unblinkingly. Hearing approaching footsteps, he took out his worn silk handkerchief, unfolded it, and wiped the cold perspiration from his legal brow. In his heart of hearts, he wished he had not come, but Dorothys kindly greeting at once relieved him of all embarrassment.