Part 3 (1/2)
Thus in early times did the pious Right Thinkers save the land from h.e.l.lfire and d.a.m.nation; thus the great-grandfathers of middle-western congressmen; thus the ancestors of plat.i.tudinous editorial writers, Sitters on Committees, and tin-horn prohibitionists.
Kennicott got up to cool his wrath and indignation with a drink of water. He stumbled over a chair, reached for the jug, took a drink, set the jug down, stumbled over the same chair, and crawled back into bed.
His expedition cost him the loss of all bed covering; he gave up the fight.
”Aside from dragging my own private views over the coals of your righteousness, did you and your friends find anything equally pleasant and self-satisfying to discuss this evening?”
”Eh--what's that? Why, yes, we did. We decided to refuse permission for one of these traveling medicine shows to operate in Plymouth.”
”Medicine shows?”
”Yes--you know--like a fair in England. This one claims to come from down south somewhere. 'Smart Set Medicine Show' it's called, run by a fellow named Mencken. Sells cheap whisky to the Indians--makes them crazy, they say. He's another one of your radical friends we don't want around.”
”Yes, he might cut in on your own trading with the Indians.”
”Oh, for heaven's sake, Prissie--hire a hall.”
Silence. He began to snore.
She lay there, sleepless and open-eyed. The clock struck eleven.
”Why can't I get to sleep?”
(”Did Will put the cat out?”)
”I wonder what this medicine show is like?”
”What is the matter with these people?”
(”Or is it me?”)
She reached down, pulled the blankets from under her, spread them carefully over the sleeping Kennicott, patting them down affectionately.
The next day she learned what the medicine show was like. She also learned what was the matter with the pilgrims.
III
Morning.
A fog horn.
A fog horn blowing unceasingly.
At breakfast Kennicott pointed with his fork in the direction of the persistent sound.
”There's your Smart Set medicine show,” he said glumly. ”He doesn't seem to care much whether we give him a permit or not.” Then, a minute later, ”We'll have to let him stay. Won't do to have the Indians down on us.
But I tell you this, Priscilla, I don't want you to go.”
”But Will--”
”Prissie, please! I'm sorry I said what I did last night. I was tired.