"Mr. Longfellow makes the best of it."
"I've got eighty-three state dollars. Oh yes, and I have a student bus pass, so I won't need any transport. That should save a bit."
Mr. Longfellow exhaled heavily and turned to address his reflection in a long mirror.
Above it was a sign that read,
Essential Daywear for the Discriminating Portal Traveller.
"Dear me, what have we come to, Willum?" he sighed. " How the mighty have fallen. Whatever next? Day excursions? How I long for the return of the carriage trade. Those halcyon days of duchesses and drawing rooms, butlers, and boaters. In case you don't know Peagreen, my boy," he said, addressing me directly, boaters were straw hats for dashing young gentlemen. I had one myself, second-hand, of course, but I cut a fine figure on the Sunday promenade. The girls couldn't take their eyes off me."
He winked roguishly at himself in the glass.
"In those days, the young portal travellers were exclusively well-spoken children with lovely manners. Privately educated, of course. Most had absentee parents and uncles who lived in country mansions."
He smiled to himself at the memory of better times.
"I remember making an appointment to show a certain professor our latest range of door portals, and the housekeeper gave me lunch beforehand in the Servants Hall. What a feast! Quite the best scrag end I have ever tasted, accompanied by Sprouts Naturelle. A quite delightful meal."
Mr. Longfellow stopped, lost in memory, and I waited patiently for him to continue. I couldn't wait to ask Montana about him.
He was off his head.
"It was a privilege to serve that class of people, even though they could be a little brusque at times," said Mr. Longfellow. "Blue blood, you see. Don't suffer fools gladly.
"In case you are wondering, Peagreen," he said, without turning away from the mirror. 'Suffer fools gladly' is a cliché with Biblical origins. Saint Paul, in his second letter to the Church at Corinth, was the first to use it. It's a hobby of mine—hackneyed expressions, time-proven clichés, idioms, and the like. All traditional English, of course. No modern stuff.
"Anyway, at the time, this chap had his butler throw me out of the front door. Not the most dignified of exits. I broke my samples, and the professor left me with a nasty bruise on the head from a surprisingly well-aimed catalogue I had left on approval. It was the Gentry Edition, if I remember correctly. Embossed leather with full-colour plates. It cost a fortune to print, but luckily, it proved to be bloodstain resistant. You get what you pay for, as my old mother used to say."
Mr. Longfellow peered into the mirror, fluffing up his sparse patch of grey hair, trying to give it a bit more body and bounce, but to no avail; it still resembled a small clump of dead grass in the middle of an arctic wilderness.
The old boy continued to chatter to his reflection in the mirror.
"Not getting any younger, are we, Willum? There's no state pension when you retire in this world, so it's the workhouse for you, my boy. Your only chance is to get enough money together to buy a starter home in one of those new Hoovervilles, Mark Two. All the rage in America at one time, I'm told."
"Have to start a new career, of course," continued Mr. Longfellow, "a bit late in life, I know, but seventy-nine is the new thirty, the government keeps telling us. I need some capital, and those eighty-three dollars in Peagreen's pocket will be almost straight profit if I can sell him one of those specials I got as salvage."
He must have realised that I had heard him and gave me an embarrassed smile.
"Yes, specials—that's what they are—high-end specials. I spent a fortune, what with renovation and storage costs. But I have taken a shine to you, Peagreen. People will say that I'm letting my heart rule my head, but I'm going to let you have the first trip for exactly eighty-three dollars, ahem, unless that bus pass has any cash value. What do you think? No? I didn't think so; pity, but what's money? I am going to let you have it at a loss. 'Big-hearted Willum,' they used to call me at Portal Travel College. Do anyone a favour, Willum—selfless to the core. 'What a man! Legend!' It caused a bit of jealousy, of course. Envious types keep leaving my name off the invitation list for annual reunions and the like. As if I cared! Quickly now, Peagreen, before I change my mind. Let's go down to the basement and get your name on one of those babies before somebody beats us to it!"