He hobbled rapidly to Sylvan Circle, took the bus down to Rita Kamber’s Vanguard Book Shop, and bought Trevelyan’s History of England. In the second-hand bins he saw two treasures which could not help him greatly, he knew, but which he could not resist: Lady Montressor’s Memoirs of Court, Camp, and Stately Residences of Our Fair Isle, two volumes, bound in white buckram with heraldic stampings, extra-illustrated, a great bargain, marked down from $22.50 to $4.67, and Metaphrastic Documentation of Feoffments under Henry VIII, a doctoral thesis by J. Humboldt Spare, Ph.D., published at $2.50, now fifteen cents.

His arm ached as he lugged them back to the bus, and he wondered, “Will I ever really go through them?” He was having the first, great, gloomy disillusionment in his career as a scholar.

He also bought Hard-Hitting Hockey, by Sandy Gough, and this, later, he actually read.

* * * * *

When his father heard that the research was begun, he hunted through old trunks and gave Neil a holograph letter from Daniel Kingsblood, the carpenter-farmer who had been in the Civil War, son of the Henry Aragon who had been driven out of England. Neil tasted it avidly:

Agst 7, 1864

My dr wfe:

I take my pen in hand to tell you all well so far hope Wm & you same. We are somewhere in Va or Car not sure which the sarjent will not tell us. Food is very bad am not complaining I suppose somebody has to fight this damn war but no place for man of almost 40 officers very mean and stuck up reumatism comes back when damp do not like these mts too hard to go up & down much prefer our Mich farm even if in wild & wooly west well there is no special news camp was attacked other night but halfharted do not think the graybellies like this War any better than us so getting along alright hope you all well. Must close now, your affct husband

Daniel R. Kingsblood

Dr. Kenneth, nervously trotting his fingers in air, urged, “Wonderful letter, eh! Can’t you just see the old boy? Golly, those fellows were patriotic! Took things like they came—endure anything for the sake of preserving the nation. Wonderful letter. I bet a historian would pay a lot to see that letter, but I’m not going to let one of those fellows even take a look at it, and don’t you ever show it to ‘em if they come snooping around. Well, that ought to be an inspiration to you, eh?”

“Oh yes—yes—sure, Dad.”

“Well now, this is going to be a great surprise to you. I think I know where there’s a lot of letters from not only my father and old Daniel but maybe Henry Aragon himself! Think of that! My cousin, Abby Kiphers, was a great hand to save papers, in Milwaukee, the hardware-dealer’s wife, and I’ve already written to her. How’ll that be for honest-to-God treasure-trove, eh?”