Just before Becca had heard the bells, the driver of the ornate wagon had spotted them in the potato patch.  So while Becca and Ben had been watching the Professor, the Professor had been watching them:

“Whoa, slow down Pegasus,” he called to his horse as he pulled slightly on the reins, “looks like we’ve got some admirers out in the field.  Could be twins, they look so much alike.  One of them must be a girl, to judge by the length of those braids.  They come clear down to her waist.”

The Professor’s gaze widened, his head turning slightly as he took in the whole setting.  “Looks like a nice farm, neat, tidy.  Not particularly prosperous, but . . . sustaining.  Cows, pigs, good-sized hen house.  And look at the abundance of laundry drying on the clothesline.  Must be a family replete with many children, bless their hungry young minds!

“Books, Pegasus, books is what they need.  And Professor Arthur F. Newman’s Literary Emporium shall feed and nourish them.  Turn in here, my equine friend, and we shall see what we shall see.”

Even before the Professor had pulled on the reins, the old horse had anticipated his words.  It was as if Pegasus could comprehend quite clearly the Professor’s stylized English.  The horse and man had traveled many miles together, and it was not unusual for one to know what the other wanted or needed.

The man reached out a hand to yank an elaborately woven cord that hung from the set of bells above his head.  “Let’s give these temple bells an extra loud shake, Pegasus, and bring the whole family into the yard.”

The melodious bells rang out across the fields on both sides of the narrow wagon path leading to the farmyard.

“Now, who will be the first?”

With a loud squeal on its hinges, the front door swung open and crashed against the outer wall of the farmhouse.  A young boy rushed through the open doorway.  Excitement exuded from him as he ran down the front steps.

The Professor chuckled to himself as he said, “Ah ha, here comes the scrapper, I bet.  Still has jam on his face from breakfast.  And he left the door wide open.  Looks to be about nine or ten years old.  Mischievous, too.  He’ll bear watching!

“Now, who’s next?”  The Professor’s eyes roamed over the yard, darting from building to building.  Then from around the back of the house he saw another boy, running while struggling with the straps of his overalls.  The Professor laughed out loud and said, “Of course, a younger brother, still hitching up his britches from the outhouse . . . .  But where are the adults?  They should be on the scene next.

“Ah, here comes the granny out of the hen house.  And look at that young girl with her, sucking her thumb.  She sure loves her granny, the way she’s holding on to her.

“Now where did those twins get to?  Oh, there they are, coming around the barn.  That must be their mama coming out of the barn door.  I wonder where the father is?  Should’ve seen him by now . . . .

“Pull up, Pegasus. Whoa, here we are . . .”

The wagon came to a jingling, creaking stop just in front of the whole family.  They stood silently together, waiting eagerly.

The Professor smiled broadly at them, removed his hat with a flourish.  Bowing slightly from his high seat, he said in a voice both deep and theatrical, “Good afternoon, dear family.  My name is Professor Arthur F. Newman, Esquire, late of Harvard College, Cambridge, Massachusetts.”  He looked directly at the twins’ mother.  “And whom might I have the pleasure of addressing, if I may be so bold to ask, madam?”

A woman in her mid-thirties looked at the Professor with suspicion for a moment.  Her face was worn with lines of worry, and the Professor could feel her studying him, trying to discern what kind of man she faced.  Suddenly she decided something unspoken and smiled at him.  As she did her face transformed into a younger self, filled with hope and trust.

Her voice was warm and welcoming, despite her earlier misgivings:  “We’re pleased to meet you, Professor.  We don’t get many visitors out this way.  We’re the Colwell family.”

Motioning at the twins, she said, “These are my oldest, Ben and Becca.  They’re twins as you can see.  Next is Will.”  Her eyes darted over the group, a frown beginning to appear on her face.  “Where is he?”

She spotted him climbing on the rear of the wagon.  “Will, get down off the Professor’s wagon!”

“Oh, he’s all right, madam.”

She hesitated for a moment, uncertain whether she approved even with the Professor’s permission.  Then she reached out a hand to touch the shoulder of the youngest boy, still working at the straps of his overalls. “This is Sam. He’s seven.”  She helped button his straps, meanwhile nodding at the young girl beside her.  “And the baby, Sarah, who’ll be four next month.”

A frown appeared on the girl’s face as she said, “I’m no baby, mama!”

“You’ll always be my baby, Sarah.”

Now the granny stepped forward, extending her hand to the Professor.  “And I’m Jessie, Ellen Louise’s grandmother.  That’s Ellen Louise who’s been introducing everyone.  Just like her to put everyone else first.”

The Professor shook Jessie’s hand and was surprised by the strength of her grip.  She winked at him before giving one last squeeze of his hand.

The Professor smiled and asked, “And Mr. Colwell?”

His question was met with a silence as heavy as a granite tombstone.  The gaiety of the greetings ended abruptly, gloom taking its place.  The Professor realized immediately he’d made a blunder.

“Mr. Colwell no longer lives here,” Ellen said simply, breaking the silence.  The lines returned to her face.

The Professor misunderstood her meaning and offered his condolences.  “I’m so sorry,” he said sincerely.  “When did he pass away?”

Once more a cold silence filled the air until Granny Jessie had had enough of it and blurted out, “No sense hiding the truth, Ellen.”  She turned to face the Professor and looked him squarely in the eye.  “Ran off two years ago.  Left this good woman with five children to raise and a farm to work, and we’ve done better without him!”

He stammered into the awkward silence that followed.  “Well, I , um, . . . .let’s see if I can get these names straight.”

The Professor climbed down from the wagon and tied off the reins on the brake handle.

Facing the granny, he said, “Granny Jesse, there’s no forgetting you.  Next, Ellen Louise, a pleasure, madam.”  He reached out to take her hand in his, which she gave reluctantly though he didn’t appear to notice.  The Professor then nodded at the twins and said, “The twins:  Ben and Becca.”

There was a loud burst of bells, and Ellen yelled, “Will, stop shaking those bells!”

“Will’s next,” the Professor said laughing.  “Then comes Sam, the quiet one.  And last, but certainly not least, is Sarah, the baby of the family who will one day be queen of all.”

Sarah smiled shyly at him, as Becca said, “Hey Professor, that’s pretty good.  No one ever gets it right on the first try.”

“Why thank you, Becca, that’s very astute of you to recognize my advanced capacity for memorization.”

“Becca’s not stupid, Professor,” said Sarah, instantly offended.

“I didn’t say ‘stupid,’ Sarah.  I said ‘astute,’ which means ‘exhibiting combined shrewdness and perspicacity often to the point of being artful or crafty.’  In other words, ‘shrewd.’”

Perplexed, Sarah tilted her head and asked, “Is he speaking English, Mama?”

“Yes, my child,” the Professors answered, “I am speaking not only English, but one of the world’s greatest languages.  It is richer in vocabulary, more flexible in grammar, and more expressive than any language I know.”

Ben was impressed and asked, “How many languages do you know, Professor?”

Flustered by the question, the Professor hesitated for a moment.  When he regained his composure, he replied, “That’s besides the point, my boy.  What is the point?  Books!  Yes, books, books, books!  And that’s what I make available to you today.”

Granny Jesse put one hand on a hip and leaned forward towards the Professor.  She reached out her other hand and shook a pointed finger at him.  “Now if you’re selling books, Professor, I’ll tell you right now you’re wasting your time here.  There’s only one Book we need, that’s the Holy Bible, and we already got it sitting on the mantle in the parlor.  We don’t have any money to squander on fanciful books.”

The Professor seemed shocked by her rebuke.  He placed both hands over his heart as though he had been dealt a mortal wound.  His voice when he replied was defensive.  “Madam Jesse, this is not a matter of such crassness as money, filthy lucre.  We’re talking about Knowledge.  And I don’t merely sell books, I operate a literary emporium.   Why, I —”

He was cut off in mid-sentence by a loud and piercing scream from the rear of the wagon.  Will ran to them, clearly frightened.  “Mama! Mama!  There’s a monster in back of the Professor’s wagon!”  He rushed into her skirts and threw his arms about her waist, burying his face in the folds of her dress.

The Professor walked over to Will, placed a hand on his shoulder trying to calm him.  “It’s alright, Will.  That’s not a monster.  He’s my companion.”  Then the Professor spoke directly to Ellen:  “He’s quite harmless, I assure you.”

“Who is he?” Ellen asked.  “Why don’t you bring him out so we can all meet him?”

“He’s quite shy, Ellen.  He’s actually very shy.  His name is Calaban and he’s been much mistreated in his life.”

“But we wouldn’t hurt him,” Becca said.  Her brothers and sister nodded their heads in agreement.  Even Will looked up from his mother’s skirts and nodded.

“I know you wouldn’t, children, but Cal doesn’t know that yet.  It’s a long story, and not a very happy one.”

“Tell us, Professor,” Ben said.

“Well, I . . . ,” the Professor hesitated and looked at Ellen.

Ellen looked briefly at Granny Jesse who nodded her head ever so slightly.  So Ellen said, “Why don’t you come in, Professor, and you can tell us the whole story.  It’s nearly time for supper anyway, and it looks like there’s a storm coming up.  The sky is certainly getting dark, isn’t it?  Ben, show the Professor where to stable his horse.  The rest of you come inside and help get supper on the table.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” the Professor said, bowing gallantly from the waist.  “I’d be delighted and honored to join you.”

“And Calaban?” Ellen asked.  All the children looked eagerly at the Professor.  Clearly, they were curious about Will’s “monster.”