There was a park on the outskirts of town where I loved to loaf, when the weather was sunny,—a place where the blue jays fought with the squirrels and the leaves flickered in the sun ... sometimes I lay on the grass, reading ... sometimes I lounged on a bench ... I read my Greek and Latin poets there ... and my English and German poets ... and, when hungry, I sauntered home to my bread and cheese, or, now that I was in receipt of Derek's weekly stipend, to a frugal meal at some lunch counter. I dearly liked rib-ends of beef....
One day, when I was in my park, lying on my belly, reading Josephus, I was aware of the deputy sheriff, Small, whom I knew, standing over me....
"Oh, it's you, Gregory!"
"Yes, what's the matter, Deputy Small? what do you want?"
"People who drove in from the country complained about your lying here."
"Complained about my lying here? what the hell!... look'e here, Jim Small, there's no ordinance to prevent me from lying on the grass."
"Well, Johnnie, you either got to git up and sit, proper, on a bench, or I'll have to pull you in, much as I dislike to do it."
"Jim, you just 'pull' ahead, if you think you're lucky ... it'll be a fine thing for me ... I'll sue the city for false arrest."
Deputy Small was puzzled. He pushed his hat back and scratched his head....
"Jim, who put you up to this?"