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The Haunted Bookshop | Christopher Morley | |
The Corn Cob Club |
Page 5 of 10 |
"Well, gentlemen," said Roger as his guests assembled in his little cabinet, "it's a cold evening. Pull up toward the fire. Make free with the cider. The cake's on the table. My wife came back from Boston specially to make it." "Here's Mrs. Mifflin's health!" said Mr. Chapman, a quiet little man who had a habit of listening to what he heard. "I hope she doesn't mind keeping the shop while we celebrate?" "Not a bit," said Roger. "She enjoys it." "I see Tarzan of the Apes is running at the Gissing Street movie palace," said Gladfist. "Great stuff. Have you seen it?" "Not while I can still read The Jungle Book," said Roger. "You make me tired with that talk about literature," cried Jerry. "A book's a book, even if Harold Bell Wright wrote it." "A book's a book if you enjoy reading it," amended Meredith, from a big Fifth Avenue bookstore. "Lots of people enjoy Harold Bell Wright just as lots of people enjoy tripe. Either of them would kill me. But let's be tolerant." "Your argument is a whole succession of non sequiturs," said Jerry, stimulated by the cider to unusual brilliance. "That's a long putt," chuckled Benson, the dealer in rare books and first editions. "What I mean is this," said Jerry. "We aren't literary critics. It's none of our business to say what's good and what isn't. Our job is simply to supply the public with the books it wants when it wants them. How it comes to want the books it does is no concern of ours." |
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