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_Pause._
I wonder.--I--I almost wish it were so!
_With bent head he goes out. Rhoda stands looking after him until the inner door closes, then sits before the fire in revery. Beeler comes in from the barn. He wears his old fur cap, and holds in one hand a bulky Sunday newspaper, in the other some battered harness, an awl, twine, and wax, which he deposits on the window seat. He lays the paper on the table, and unfolds from it a large colored print, which he holds up and looks at with relish._
BEELER.
These Sunday papers do get up fine supplements. I wouldn't take money for that picture.
RHODA.
_Looks at it absently._
What does it mean?
BEELER.
_Reads._
"Pan and the Pilgrim." Guess you never heard of Pan, did you?
RHODA.
Yes. One of the old heathen G.o.ds.
BEELER.
Call him heathen if you like! The folks that worshipped him thought he was orthodox, I guess.
_He pins up the print, which represents a palmer of crusading times surprised in the midst of a forest by the G.o.d Pan._
RHODA.
What does the picture mean?
BEELER.
Well, Pan there, he was a kind of a nature G.o.d. The old Romans thought him out, to stand for a lot of things.
RHODA.
What kind of things?
BEELER.
Natural things, with plenty of sap and mischief in 'em. Growin' plants, and frisky animals, and young folks in love.
_He points to the figure of Pan, then to the Pilgrim, as he talks._
There he sits playin' Jenny-come-kiss-me on his dod-gasted mouth-organ, when along comes one of them fellows out of a monastery, with religion on the brain. Pikin' for Jerusalem, to get a saint's toe-nail and a splinter of the true cross.
_Martha enters from the kitchen and potters about the room "redding up."_
Look at him! Do you think he'll ever get to Jerusalem? Not this trip!
He hears the pipes o' Pan. He hears women callin' and fiddles squeakin'
love-tunes in the woods. It'll take more than a monk's robe on his back and a shaved head on his shoulders to keep him straight, I reckon.
He'll call to mind that young fellows had blood in their veins when Adam was a farmer, and whoop-la! he'll be off to the county fair, to dance ring-around-a-rosy with Matildy Jane!
_Pause, as he takes off his cap and light his pipe._
Like to see our friend Michaelis meet up with Mr. Pan. Don't believe Michaelis ever looked cross-eyed at a girl.
_He examines Rhoda quizzically._
You wouldn't make up bad as Matildy Jane yourself, Rho, but sufferin'
Job, he can't tell the difference between crow's feet and dimples!
MARTHA.
Don't you be so sure!
BEELER.
h.e.l.lo! Dan'el come to judgment! Never seen an old maid yet that couldn't squeeze a love story out of a flat-iron.
MARTHA.
I may be an old maid, and you may be an old wind-bag, but I've got eyes in my head.
_To Rhoda._
Where did you meet up with him, anyway?
_Rhoda, plunged in thought, does not answer._
BEELER.
Wake up, Rhody! Marthy asked you where you met up with our new boarder.
RHODA.
On the road, coming home from the village.
BEELER.
What made you bring him here?
RHODA.
