“Oh no—I like to read, and there are plenty of books around here.” He frowned. “Should think a hefty young fella’d find more interesting things. Youre indented, of course? No? Well then youre a mighty lucky fella. In a way, in a way. Naturally youll be short on cash, ay? Unless you draw a lucky number in the lottery.”
I told him I’d never bought a lottery ticket.
He slapped his leg as though I’d just repeated a very good joke. “Aint that the pattrun,” he exclaimed; “aint that the pattrun! Necessity makes em have a lottery; Puritanism keeps em from buying tickets. Aint that the pattrun!” He gargled the humor of it for some time, while his eyes moved restlessly around the dim interior of the store. “And what do you read, ay? Sermons? Books on witches?”
I admitted I’d dipped into both, and then, perhaps trying to impress him, explained my ambitions.
“Going to be a professional historian, hey? Little out of my line, but I don’t suppose they’s many of em up North here.”
“Not unless you count a handful of college instructors who dabble in it”
He shook his head. “Young fella with your aims could do better down South, I’d think.”
“Oh yes; some of the most interesting research is going on right now in Leesburg, Washington-Baltimore and the University of Lima. You are a Confederate yourself, sir?”
“Southron, yes sir, I am that and mighty proud of it. Now look a-here, boy: I’ll lay all my cards on the table, face up. Youre a free man and you aint getting any pay here. Now how’d you like to do a little job for me? They’s good money in it; and I imagine I’d be able to fix up one of those deals—what do they call em? scholarships—at the University of Leesburg, after.” A scholarship at Leesburg. Where the Department of History was engaged on a monumental project—nothing less than a compilation of all known source material on the War of Southron Independence! It was only with the strongest effort that I refrained from agreeing blindly.
“It sounds fine, Mr—?” “Colonel Tolliburr. Jest call me cunnel.”