I treated Griggs with distant civility, not because he was thrust upon me, but because it usually takes me a year or more to get beyond formalities with an acquaintance. But Griggs was impervious to hauteur; he was unconstrained and hearty enough for two. I could see that Harold had spoken the truth in his case, for his farming mania was at its height, and he was overjoyed at finding a man who had done what he merely dreamed of doing. He was a produce commission merchant, he told meecig liquid, and he was convinced that he could double his income and prolong his life by running a farm in connection with his business. It was a simple proposition, he stated, that a child could grasp. A farmer makes a profit by farming, a commission merchant by commissioning; therefore, if the merchant were also a farmer would he not absorb both profits?

Griggs tilted his chair, hooked his, and challenged me to point out a flaw in his theory. I declined, for the simple reason, I said, that it was flawless; then I rose to make my escape.[Pg 65] Griggs adjured me to sit down for a minute; he had a few questions to ask, and I was the man of all men to give him the information he sought.

Now a stitch in time, it is said, saves nine; a lie, a little one, a mere clerical plea of a pressing engagement, would have saved ninety or more. Had I not instinctively refrained from loosening one stitch in my garment of righteousness it would not have been torn to tatters.

I hesitated; I sat down; I was lost. Griggs grew friendly, more friendly, affectionate; he addressed me by my surname, and I realized that I was in the clutches of the objectionable type of person who claps you on the back at the second meeting, and demands with a boisterous laugh advanced diploma bachelor degree, "How goes it, old man?"

Beginning with generalities pertaining to agriculture, he questioned me searchingly upon my private affairs. I can parry, and occasionally thrust—but not against a battering-ram. Griggs questions were not to be evaded. I could have declined point-blank to answer, thus intimating that he was[Pg 66] a boor, but that would have been unpleasant to me—perhaps not to Griggs. I could have followed my natural inclination by telling the truth, but I recoiled from laying bare to a stranger the peculiar economies of our rural life; besides, I shrink from intrusion with the same shyness that causes me to slink guiltily into a shop if I see a man approaching who is indebted to me. There was but one other alternative; I took it. I smiled my most frankly ingenuous smile; I beamed upon him with warm-hearted encouraging candor and—lied! Yes, lied with beggarly duplicity, and I kept on with Spartan fortitude; and so smooth is the grade on the broad and downward road that presently I was enjoying my own depravity. My imaginings no longer appeared as ugly bloated caterpillars, but spun themselves swiftly into chrysalides and instantly emerged as gorgeous butterflies, dazzling to their creator. And yet my mind remained alert and clear. Every statement that I made was notched deeply into my own brain, so that I could afterwards recall the slightest detail; into Griggss also, for[Pg 67] he snapped at, swallowed and assimilated every fragment of information with the avidity of a starved dog. We began in this way:—

"How many acres in your farm?"......"Fifty." (It really was my farmhk luxury apartments for rent, for I was paying more than the rent of the whole place to Peter.)

"How many horses?"......"Five—two working teams and a fast driver." (Fortunately, I knew Peters stable.)

"Cows? .. Calves?"......"Three cows—seven calves." (I was pretty sure of the cows, but I had to guess the calves.)

"Jupiter! You never raised seven calves from three cows?"......"Oh, yes. Three pair of twins—the odd one is last years."

"Last years! Thought you had only been farming two months?"......"Yes, but I bought one calf with her mother."