you
folks. Thank God, we don't have to go and purr at Juanity Haydock at the
Jolly Old Seventeen."

The Carol who regarded herself as completely adaptable was uncomfortable
at being chosen as comrade by a pipe-reeking odd-job man. Probably he
was one of her husband's patients. But she must keep her dignity.

"Yes, even the Jolly Seventeen isn't always so exciting. It's very cold
again today, isn't it. Well----"

Bjornstam was not respectfully valedictory. He showed no signs of
pulling a forelock. His eyebrows moved as though they had a life of
their own. With a subgrin he went on:

"Maybe I hadn't ought to talk about Mrs. Haydock and her Solemcholy
Seventeen in that fresh way. I suppose I'd be tickled to death if I was
invited to sit in with that gang. I'm what they call a pariah, I guess.
I'm the town badman, Mrs. Kennicott: town atheist, and I suppose I must
be an anarchist, too. Everybody who doesn't love the bankers and the
Grand Old Republican Party is an anarchist."

Carol had unconsciously slipped from her attitude of departure into an
attitude of listening, her face full toward him, her muff lowered. She
fumbled:

"Yes, I suppose so." Her own grudges came in a flood. "I don't see why
you shouldn't criticize the Jolly Seventeen if you want to. They aren't
sacred."

"Oh yes, they are! The dollar-sign has chased the crucifix clean off
the map. But then, I've got no kick. I do what I please, and I suppose I
ought to let them do the same."

"What do you mean by saying you're a pariah?"

"I'm poor, and yet I don't decently envy the rich. I'm an old bach.
I make enough money for a stake, and then I sit around by myself, and
shake hands with myself, and have a smoke, and read history, and I don't
contribute to the wealth of Brother Elder or Daddy Cass."

"You----I fancy you read a good deal."

"Yep. In a hit-or-a-miss way. I'll tell you: I'm a lone wolf. I trade
horses, and saw wood, and work in lumber-camps--I'm a first-rate
swamper. Always wished I could go to college. Though I s'pose I'd find
it pretty slow, and they'd probably kick me out."

"You really are a curious person, Mr.----"

"Bjornstam. Miles Bjornstam. Half Yank and half Swede. Usually known as
'that damn lazy big-mouthed calamity-howler that ain't satisfied with
the way we run things.' No, I ain't curious--whatever you mean by
that! I'm just a bookworm. Probably too much reading for the amount
of digestion I've got. Probably half-baked.