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."