"He's just that thumping, downright kind of a man," Kelso remarked. "How are you getting on with the books?"
"I have Chitty on Contracts strapped to the pommel," said Abe. "I did my stint coming over, but I had to walk and lead the pony."
"Every book you read gets a baptism of Democracy," said Kelso. "An idle aristocracy of the shelves loafing in fine coats and immaculate linen is not for the wise man. Your book has to roll up its sleeves and go to work and know the touch of the sweaty hand. Swift used to say that some men treat books as they do Lords—learn their titles and then brag of having been in their company. There are no Lords and Ladies among your books. They are just men and women made for human service."
"I don't read long at once," Abe remarked. "I scratch into a book, like a hen on a barn floor, until my crop is full, and then I digest what I have taken."
Harry and Bim had put out the horses. Now the girl came and sat on her father's knee. Harry sat down by the side of Abe on the grass in the oak's shadow.
"It is a joy to have the little girl back again," said Kelso, as he touched her hair with his hand. "It is still as yellow as a corn tassel. I wonder it isn't gray."
"Her eyes look as bright as ever to-day," said Harry.
"No compliments, please. I want you to be downright mean," Bim protested.
Kelso looked up with a smile: "My boy, it was Leonardo da Vinci who said that a man could have neither a greater nor a less dominion than that over himself."
"What a cruel-looking villain he is!" Bim exclaimed, with a smile. "I wouldn't dare say what I think of him."