"
* * * * *
Monday morning ... by six or seven o'clock a rustling below, in the
shop, by eight, the day's work in full blast ... a terrific pounding and
hammering on sheets of tin and pieces of pipe. The uproar threw my mind
off my poetry.
I went down to speak with Randall about it....
"Frank, I can't stand this, I must leave."
"Nonsense; stay; you'll get used to it."
"No, I must go if the noise keeps up continually like this."
"Well, it won't ... we have a special job to finish ... tin-roofing ...
but if you want a place to stay where it is quiet, I have a camp, not
far out, on the Ossawatomie, where I go for week-ends...."
"Where is it? That would be fine. I'd like to stay there."
"You know where old Farmer Brown lives, by the abandoned church, just
outside of Perthville?"
"Yes. That's seven miles out on the Osageville road."
"Take the first turn to the right from his house, going west. It's an
unused bye-road and it runs plumb into my cabin. There's a frying pan
there ... and some flour ... and bacon ... tell you what ... it's been
broken into several times. I'll consider it worth while if you go and
live there, and I get no rent from you for it nor the room upstairs ...
you'll be alone, God knows--excepting Saturdays and Sundays."
* * * * *
I packed my Heine in a bundle .
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