And then originated the appellation which has
since clung to me, that of "The Vagabond Poet."
One morning, when I was hardly awake, there came a knock at my door.
"Just a moment," I called, getting into my shirt and trousers, "who is
it?"
"A reporter to interview you."
I opened the door to admit a pale, young chap, who expertly flirted the
ashes off a cigarette as he said, leaning his head sidewise, that he
represented the Kansas City _Star_. As he spoke his keen grey eyes
looked me over impartially, but with intelligent, friendly interest.
Though he was dressed in the student's conventional style, even to the
curiously nicked and clipped soft hat then predominant, there was still
about him an off-handedness, an impudent at-homeness that bespoke a
wider knowledge, or assumed knowledge, of the world, than the average
student possesses.
The interview appeared the next afternoon.
"VAGABOND POET ARRIVES.
LAUREL ENROLLS BOX-CAR STUDENT."
It made me a nine days' wonder with the students. I caught the men
staring at me, the girls shyly observing me, as I strode from class room
to class room....
But the reek of the stable. It went with me like a ghost everywhere.
Maybe it was because I had no change of suits ... I saw that it was
noticeable to others, and I sat 'way back, in a seat apart, by myself.
* * * * *
Langworth watched my progress narrowly the first few weeks.
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