The house was inconveniently situated for students, and
on that account I got two rooms for the price of one. My bedroom,
originally a linen closet, was unheated and was barely large enough to
contain my cot bed, but it enabled me to call the other room my study. The
dresser, and the great walnut wardrobe which held all my clothes, even my
hats and shoes, I had pushed out of the way, and I considered them
non-existent, as children eliminate incongruous objects when they are
playing house. I worked at a commodious green-topped table placed directly
in front of the west window which looked out over the prairie. In the
corner at my right were all my books, in shelves I had made and painted
myself. On the blank wall at my left the dark, old-fashioned wall-paper
was covered by a large map of ancient Rome, the work of some German
scholar. Cleric had ordered it for me when he was sending for books from
abroad. Over the bookcase hung a photograph of the Tragic Theater at
Pompeii, which he had given me from his collection.
When I sat at work I half faced a deep, upholstered chair which stood at
the end of my table, its high back against the wall. I had bought it with
great care. My instructor sometimes looked in upon me when he was out for
an evening tramp, and I noticed that he was more likely to linger and
become talkative if I had a comfortable chair for him to sit in, and if he
found a bottle of Benedictine and plenty of the kind of cigarettes he
liked, at his elbow.
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