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"I mean bigger things for you, Razorre, than you can guess.... I will make you the Eos Poet look at Gresham, he is the Eos Artist, and, as such, his fame is continent-wide ... just as yours will become ... and I will bring out a book of your poetry ... and advertise it in The Dawn."
"I I lost my baggage ... all I have with me is a-a r-razor." He leaned his head back and laughed joyously. His lambent brown eyes glowed with humour. I liked the man. "Yes, we'll give you a job Razorre!" he assured me, calling me by the nickname which clung to me during my stay.... "Take that axe and show me what you can do." I caught up the axe and fell to with enthusiasm.
I nodded him a stiff greeting. I ate in silence at the furthest table. In a few minutes he did me an honour he had never shown me before. He came over to where I sat. "Razorre," he invited, "how would you like to take a hike with me into the country, this morning?" I gave him a swift glance. "I would like it very much." "Then as soon as you are through, meet me in the library."
"Say Razorre," the Master continued, after a thoughtful pause, "you know you nuts are teaching me a lot of things.... "The trouble with the educated, regular folks is that they lose so much by drawing the line ... often everything that is spontaneous and fine.... This thing called God, you know, draws the line nowhere....
I would go over there and, if he was there, call him to account for his insults. There was a light lit within, and I could see him through the window at his desk. "Come in!" in answer to my knock. "Oh, it's you, Razorre!" and his eyes snapped with fresh resentment. "What do you want? Don't you know that I'm busy on A Brief Visit?" "You know why I'm here!" "Well?" challengingly.
One morning he was the last to climb out from over the bench at the rough, board table.... "Hank ... wait. I want to speak to you a minute." "Yes, Razorre, what is it?" he asked, waiting.... "Hank, the boys have delegated me to tell you that you must use better manners than you do, at meals." "The hell you say! and what are you going to do if I don't?"
Unexpectedly Hank flopped on the bench and began to shout with laughter.... My heavy, artificial breathing, like a bellows, for the sake of oxygenating more strength into my muscles, had struck him as being so ludicrous, that he was in high good humour. I joined in the laughter, struck in the same way. "I surrender, Razorre, and I'll promise to be decent at the table you skinny, crazy, old poet!"
"I why, Hank, I hadn't thought of that ... but, since you bring up the question, I'm going to try to stop you, if you won't stop yourself." " think you can? think you're strong enough?" "I said 'try'!" "Listen, Razorre," and he came over to me with lazy, good-natured strength, "I'll pick you up, take you out, and roll you in the snow, if you don't keep still."
" queer fish," John remarked of him, "but, Razorre, you ought to come on him in the woods ... there he is a different person ... he sits under a tree till he seems to become part of the vegetation, the landscape ... when I had him out to camp with me last summer he would go off alone and stay away till we thought he had got lost, or had walked into a pond, in his simpleness, and drowned...."
"Razorre," he cut in, moved, "we all have our faults, God knows you have mutual forgiveness " he murmured, pressing my hand warmly again; his great, brown eyes humid with emotion ... whether he was acting, or genuine ... or both ... I could not tell. I didn't care. I departed with the warmth of his benediction over my going. This time I did not freight it. I paid my fare to New York.
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