“There don't nothing bother you in warm weather, that's right,” said Toboso, “except your grub. And that ain't any more than's interesting. If it wasn't for looking after meals, a man on the road might get right down lazy.” “Why, just so! How wonderful! Now, do you suppose, Mr. Toboso, do you suppose it feasible? I should very much like, if it could be equably arranged, I should very much like to have this experience.” Toboso reflected. “There ain't many of your age on the road.” An idea struck him suddenly. “But supposing you were going sort of experimenting, like that--and there's some folks that do--supposing you could lay your hands on a little bunch of money for luck, I don't see nothing to stop.” “Why, I think there is some in my desk.” Toboso leaned forward and pulled his beard. The table creaked under his elbow. “How much?” “I will see. Of course you are quite right.” “At your age, Elder.” “It is not as if I were younger.” Father Wiliston rose and hurried out. Toboso sat still and blinked at the lamp. “My Gord!” he murmured and moaned confidentially, “here's a game!” After some time Father Wiliston returned. “Do you think we could start now?” he asked eagerly. “Why sure, Elder. What's hindering?” “I am fortunate to find sixty dollars. Really, I didn't remember. And here's a note I have written to my son to explain. I wonder what Bettina did with my hat.” He hurried back into the hall. Toboso took the note from the table and pocketed it. “Ain't no use taking risks.” They went out into the warm night, under pleasant stars, and along the road together arm in arm. “I feel pretty gay, Elder.” He broke into bellowing song, “Hey, Jinny! Ho, Jinny! Listen, love, to me.” “Really, I feel cheerful, too, Mr. Toboso, wonderfully cheerful.” “Dulcinea, Elder. Dulcinea's me name. Hey, Jinny! Ho, Jinny!” “How singular it is! I feel very cheerful. I think--really, I think I should like to learn that song about Jinny. It seems such a cheerful song.” “Hit her up, Elder,” wheezed Toboso jovially. “Now then”-- “Hey, Jinny! Ho, Jinny! Listen, love, to me.” So they went arm in arm with a roaring and a tremulous piping. The lamp flickered by the open window as the night breeze rose. Bettina came home betimes and cleared the table. The memory of a Scandinavian caress was too recent to leave room for her to remark that there were signs of devastating appetite, that dishes had been used unaccountably, and that “Fater” had gone somewhat early to bed. Timothy and his wife returned late. All windows and doors in the house of Timothy were closed, and the last lamp was extinguished.