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low sheds. A smile came to his lips and he began

making motions with his long arms to a man who
was husking corn in one of the fields.

In his hour of misery the young merchant had
returned to the farm where he had lived through

boyhood and where there was another human being
to whom he felt he could explain himself. The man

on the farm was a half-witted old fellow named
Mook. He had once been employed by Ebenezer

Cowley and had stayed on the farm when it was
sold. The old man lived in one of the unpainted

sheds back of the farmhouse and puttered about all
day in the fields.

Mook the half-wit lived happily. With childlike
faith he believed in the intelligence of the animals

that lived in the sheds with him, and when he was
lonely held long conversations with the cows, the

pigs, and even with the chickens that ran about the
barnyard. He it was who had put the expression

regarding being "laundered" into the mouth of his
former employer. When excited or surprised by any-

thing he smiled vaguely and muttered: "I'll be
washed and ironed. Well, well, I'll be washed and

ironed and starched."
When the half-witted old man left his husking of

corn and came into the wood to meet Elmer Cowley,
he was neither surprised nor especially interested in

the sudden appearance of the young man. His feet
also were cold and he sat on the log by the fire,

grateful for the warmth and apparently indifferent
to what Elmer had to say.

Elmer talked earnestly and with great freedom,
walking up and down and waving his arms about.

"You don't understand what's the matter with me so
of course you don't care," he declared. "With me

it's different. Look how it has always been with me.
Father is queer and mother was queer, too. Even

the clothes mother used to wear were not like other
people's clothes, and look at that coat in which fa-

ther goes about there in town, thinking he's dressed
up, too. Why don't he get a new one? It wouldn't

cost much. I'll tell you why. Father doesn't know
and when mother was alive she didn't know either.

Mabel is different. She knows but she won't say
anything. I will, though. I'm not going to be stared

at any longer. Why look here, Mook, father doesn't
know that his store there in town is just a queer

jumble, that he'll never sell the stuff he buys. He
knows nothing about it. Sometimes he's a little wor-

ried that trade doesn't come and then he goes and
buys something else. In the evenings he sits by the

fire upstairs and says trade will come after a while.
He isn't worried. He's queer. He doesn't know

enough to be worried."
The excited young man became more excited. "He

don't know but I know," he shouted, stopping to
gaze down into the dumb, unresponsive face of the

half-wit. "I know too well. I can't stand it. When
we lived out here it was different. I worked and at

night I went to bed and slept. I wasn't always seeing
people and thinking as I am now. In the evening,

there in town, I go to the post office or to the depot
to see the train come in, and no one says anything

to me. Everyone stands around and laughs and they
talk but they say nothing to me. Then I feel so queer

that I can't talk either. I go away. I don't say any-
thing. I can't."

The fury of the young man became uncontrollable.
"I won't stand it," he yelled, looking up at the bare

branches of the trees. "I'm not made to stand it."
Maddened by the dull face of the man on the log

by the fire, Elmer turned and glared at him as he
had glared back along the road at the town of

Winesburg. "Go on back to work," he screamed.
"What good does it do me to talk to you?" A

thought came to him and his voice dropped. "I'm a
coward too, eh?" he muttered. "Do you know why

I came clear out here afoot? I had to tell someone
and you were the only one I could tell. I hunted out

another queer one, you see. I ran away, that's what I
did. I couldn't stand up to someone like that George

Willard. I had to come to you. I ought to tell him
and I will."

Again his voice arose to a shout and his arms flew
about. "I will tell him. I won't be queer. I don't care

what they think. I won't stand it."
Elmer Cowley ran out of the woods leaving the

half-wit sitting on the log before the fire. Presently
the old man arose and climbing over the fence went

back to his work in the corn. "I'll be washed and
ironed and starched," he declared. "Well, well, I'll

be washed and ironed." Mook was interested. He
went along a lane to a field where two cows stood

nibbling at a straw stack. "Elmer was here," he said
to the cows. "Elmer is crazy. You better get behind

the stack where he don't see you. He'll hurt some-
one yet, Elmer will."

At eight o'clock that evening Elmer Cowley put
his head in at the front door of the office of the

Winesburg Eagle where George Willard sat writing.
His cap was pulled down over his eyes and a sullen

determined look was on his face. "You come on out-
side with me," he said, stepping in and closing the

door. He kept his hand on the knob as though pre-
pared to resist anyone else coming in. "You just

come along outside. I want to see you."
George Willard and Elmer Cowley walked through

the main street of Winesburg. The night was cold
and George Willard had on a new overcoat and

looked very spruce and dressed up. He thrust his
hands into the overcoat pockets and looked inquir-

ingly at his companion. He had long been wanting
to make friends with the young merchant and find

out what was in his mind. Now he thought he saw
a chance and was delighted. "I wonder what he's

up to? Perhaps he thinks he has a piece of news for
the paper. It can't be a fire because I haven't heard

the fire bell and there isn't anyone running," he
thought.

In the main street of Winesburg, on the cold No-
vember evening, but few citizens appeared and

these hurried along bent on getting to the stove at
the back of some store. The windows of the stores

were frosted and the wind rattled the tin sign that
hung over the entrance to the stairway leading to

Doctor Welling's office. Before Hern's Grocery a bas-
ket of apples and a rack filled with new brooms

stood on the sidewalk. Elmer Cowley stopped and
stood facing George Willard. He tried to talk and his

arms began to pump up and down. His face worked
spasmodically. He seemed about to shout. "Oh, you

go on back," he cried. "Don't stay out here with
me. I ain't got anything to tell you. I don't want to

see you at all."
For three hours the distracted young merchant

wandered through the resident streets of Winesburg
blind with anger, brought on by his failure to declare

his determination not to be queer. Bitterly the sense
of defeat settled upon him and he wanted to weep.

After the hours of futile sputtering at nothingness
that had occupied the afternoon and his failure in

the presence of the young reporter, he thought he
could see no hope of a future for himself.

And then a new idea dawned for him. In the dark-
ness that surrounded him he began to see a light.

Going to the now darkened store, where Cowley &
Son had for over a year waited vainly for trade to

come, he crept stealthily in and felt about in a barrel
that stood by the stove at the rear. In the barrel

beneath shavings lay a tin box containing Cowley &
Son's cash. Every evening Ebenezer Cowley put the

box in the barrel when he closed the store and went
upstairs to bed. "They wouldn't never think of a

careless place like that," he told himself, thinking of
robbers.

Elmer took twenty dollars, two ten-dollar bills,
from the little roll containing perhaps four hundred

dollars, the cash left from the sale of the farm. Then
replacing the box beneath the shavings he went qui-

etly out at the front door and walked again in the
streets.

The idea that he thought might put an end to all
of his unhappiness was very simple. "I will get out

of here, run away from home," he told himself. He
knew that a local freight train passed through

Winesburg at midnight and went on to Cleveland,
where it arrived at dawn. He would steal a ride on

the local and when he got to Cleveland would lose
himself in the crowds there. He would get work

in some shop and become friends with the other
workmen and would be indistinguishable. Then he

could talk and laugh. He would no longer be queer
and would make friends. Life would begin to have

warmth and meaning for him as it had for others.
The tall awkward young man, striding through

the streets, laughed at himself because he had been
angry and had been half afraid of George Willard.

He decided he would have his talk with the young
reporter before he left town, that he would tell him

about things, perhaps challenge him, challenge all
of Winesburg through him.

Aglow with new confidence Elmer went to the
office of the New Willard House and pounded on

the door. A sleep-eyed boy slept on a cot in the
office. He received no salary but was fed at the hotel

table and bore with pride the title of "night clerk."
Before the boy Elmer was bold, insistent. "You 'wake

him up," he commanded. "You tell him to come
down by the depot. I got to see him and I'm going

away on the local. Tell him to dress and come on
down. I ain't got much time."

The midnight local had finished its work in Wines-
burg and the trainsmen were coupling cars, swing-

ing lanterns and preparing to resume their flight
east. George Willard, rubbing his eyes and again

wearing the new overcoat, ran down to the station
platform afire with curiosity. "Well, here I am. What

do you want? You've got something to tell me, eh?"
he said.

Elmer tried to explain. He wet his lips with his
tongue and looked at the train that had begun to



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