what was in it; but I opened another thin one that looked as if it might
be from him, if he had written it in an unpoetic mood. It was from Judge
Vandyne, and I then understood Peter's sudden determination to come down
and live with Sam for a time, though I don't believe Peter knew the real
reason of it himself. The judge is a great diplomat, and knows just when
and to whom to be frank. We have always understood each other from the
first vacation I spent with Mabel, and I value his confidence highly.
He wrote:

No man can get a hold on the complex problems of this day and
especially the next, who doesn't go at them with at least some
sunburn on his neck and a few horny spots on his hands. Put Pete at
it, you and Sam. Your description of Sam's habitation and vocation
in letter to Mabel made me feel twenty-five again. I never had the
real thing; but Peter shall. Ease him along. If he kicks over the
traces let me know. When are you coming North again? Soon, I hope,

Your aged admirer,
PETER VANDYNE, Sr.

_P.S._--Thought I'd better say that Dr. Herbrick doesn't like
Peter's weight--one sixteen. You understand.

I wonder what the paternal Keats was like. I don't remember, and I must
look him up to see. It's funny how sturdy-oak fathers can have
ferny-mimosa sons. Mothers can stand producing poets, but it is hard on
fathers. I felt that I must help out Judge Vandyne, and with that
resolve I headed Redwheels out along Providence Road.

As I had told mother, the sobs and tears of the April day had been