But a sterner necessity compelled, so taking it from the drawer, I wended my way to Oak Street and there held a colloquy with our friend’s wife. The cloak caught her fancy at once, the bargain was struck, and I trundled home my prize in triumph, to lean it carefully near the door of our crowded quarters.
Here at dusk, Dan, entering hurriedly, collided violently with an outstanding pedal. He hopped agilely about on one foot, clasping his left shin in an affectionate embrace.
“What in hades is that thing I just fell over?” he demanded hotly.
“That? Why, that’s our through ticket to California.”
As I turned up the ineffective gas jet he recognised the graceful lines of the machine.
“Well, I’ll be darned!” he ejaculated. “So you got the blooming thing from Dave, did you? How’d you manage it? And what do you mean, anyway, by a ticket to California? You can’t be aiming to ride that contraption.”
“Don’t you dare to call my beautiful green tandem a contraption. You’ll be glad enough to take your seat on a bicycle built for two as soon as I’ve explained my perfectly scrumptious scheme to you. We’ll fix up a light cooking outfit, tie our blankets on behind, and away we’ll glide out into the west. We’ll work along the way and have lots of interesting experiences; I’ll get rid of this tiresome cough, and after awhile we’ll get home—home, do you hear? Back to California.”
“Ride that thing to California! Why think of the country between here and the coast; look at the desert, look at the Rocky Mountains, to say nothing of the little old Coast Range. What do you think I am, anyhow, a cross between a camel and a mountain goat?”
“I’ll be sure you’re all goat if you butt into my cherished plan in that rude fashion,” I responded gaily. “Never mind. Wait till your shin feels better and you’ve had something to eat and we’ll talk it over.”
I drew the table closer to our tiny stove and set out the meal while Dan prepared for supper.
“You remember my telling you about that poor little couple that I used to see at the Public Library,” I began when we were comfortably settled, “the ones that used to come in about two or three o’clock and go off in a corner somewhere to eat a bit of lunch when the librarian wasn’t looking? She’s been going down very fast for the last few weeks, hasn’t been able to look for work at all, but waited in the library till he came in, half crazy from the continued failure to find anything, and then she’d try to comfort him while they shared the part of a loaf of bread that she’d have hidden beneath her old cape.