uffs. He had already shown
that his wit as a talker had been sharpened by long and varied contact with
a world of reluctant purchasers. I was really curious to know more of him
so I said finally:
See hereMr. Canfieldit's just noon. Why not sit down here with me
and have a bit of luncheon?
Why not?
he responded with alacrity. "As the fellow saidwhy not?"
He unhitched his horsegave him a drink from the brookand then
tethered him where he could nip the roadside grass. I opened my bag and
THE FRIENDLY ROAD
26
explored the wonders of Mrs. Stanley's luncheon. I cannot describe the
absolutely carefree feeling I had. Always at homewhen I would have
liked to stop at the roadside with a strangerI felt the nudge of a
conscience troubled with cows and cornbut here I could stop where I
likedor go on when I likedand talk with whom I pleasedas long as I
pleased.
So we sat therethe brush-peddler and Iunder the treesand ate Mrs.
Stanley's fine luncheondrank the clear water from the brookand talked
great talk. Compared with Mr. Canfield I was a babe at wandering--and
equally at talking. Was there any business he had not been inor any place
in the country he had not visited? He had sold everything from
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