t his mercy."

Playwell laughed. "I must make my hay while the sun shines," he said.
"Some other elocutionist will be the fashion next year, and then I shall
only get hack-work to do. Besides, there is really a great deal more
work in my business than people will believe. For example, after I get
an author's copy"--

"Written?" I interjected.

"Sometimes it is written phonetically, but most authors dictate to a
phonograph. Well, when I get it, I take it home and study it, perhaps a
couple of days, perhaps a couple of weeks, sometimes, if it is really an
important work, a month or two, in order to get into sympathy with the
ideas, and decide on the proper style of rendering. All this is hard
work, and has to be paid for."

At this point our conversation was broken off by Hamage, who declared
that, if we were to catch the last train out of town before noon, we had
no time to lose.

Of the trip out to Hamage's place I recall nothing. I was, in fact,
aroused from a sound nap by the stopping of the train and the bustle
of the departing passengers. Hamage had disappeared. As I groped about,
gathering up my belongings, and vaguely wondering what had become of
my companion, he rushed into the car, and, grasping my hand, gave me an
enthusiastic welcome. I opened my mouth to demand what sort of a joke
this belated greeting might be intended for, but, on second thought, I
concluded not to raise the point. The fact is, when I came to observe
that the time was not noon, but late in the evening, and that the train
was the one I had left home on, and that I had not even changed my
seat in the car since then, it occurred to me that Hamage might not
understand allusions to the forenoon we had spent together. Later that
same evening, however, the consternation of my host and hostess at my
frequent and violent explosions of apparently causeless hilarity left me
no choice but to make a clean breast of my preposterous experience.
The moral they drew from it was the charming one that, if I would but
oftener come to see them, a railroad trip would not so upset my wits.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of With The Eyes Shut, by Edward Bellamy

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH THE EYES SHUT ***

***** This file should be named 22713.txt or 22713.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/7/1/22713/

Produced by David Widger

Updated editi