mending season, stop in an' tell me some more good advice. Well, I must get back to the field."
Bock fell in under the van, and we creaked off down the lane. Mifflin filled his pipe and was chuckling to himself. I was a little worried now for fear Andrew might overtake us.
"It's a wonder Sam Mason didn't call up Andrew," I said. "It must have looked mighty queer to him for an old farm hand like me to be around, peddling books."
"He would have done it straight off," said Mifflin, "but you see, I cut his telephone wire!"
