Rabbit asks him, “Uh, what do you do now?”

Again, the guffaw, the held jaw, the watchfulness. “I live in Philadelphia, basically. For a while I did youth work with the Y.M.C.A. I was a camp supervisor three summers in Vermont. Some winters, I’ve chosen just to read, to meditate. I think a very exciting thing is happening in Western consciousness and, laugh if you will, I’m making notes toward a book about it. What I think, in essence, is that, at long last, we’re coming out of Plato’s cave. How does ‘Out from Plato’s Cave’ strike you as a title?”

“Kind of spooky, but don’t mind me. What brings you back to this dirty old burg then?”

“Well, it’s rather curious, Harry. You don’t mind my calling you Harry? That all is beginning to seem as if it were only yesterday. What curious people we were then! The ghosts we let bedevil us! Anyway, you know the little town called Oriole, six miles south of Brewer?”

“I’ve been there.” With his high-school basketball team, in his junior year. He had one of his great nights there.

“Well, they have a summer theater, called the Oriole Players.”

“Sure. We run their ads.”

“That’s right—you’re a printer. I’ve heard that.”

“Linotyper, actually.”

“Good for you. Well, a friend of mine, he’s an absurd person, very egotistical, but nevertheless a wonderful man, is with them as co-director, and has talked me into helping with their P.R. Public relations. It’s really being a fund raiser. I was in Mt. Judge just now seeing this impossible old Mahlon Youngerman, that’s Sunflower Beer of course, for a donation. He said he’d think about it. That’s code for he won’t think about it.”

“It sounds a little like what you used to do.”

Eccles glances at him more sharply; a defensive sleepiness masks his face. “Pearls before swine, you mean? Pushing stumbling-blocks at the Gentiles. Yes, a little, but I only do it eight hours a day. The other sixteen, I can be my own man.”

Harry doesn’t like the hungry way he says man, like it means too much. They are jerking and trembling down Weiser Street; Eccles looks past Harry out the window and blinks. “I must get off here. Could I ask you to get off with me and have me buy you a drink? There’s a bar here on the corner that’s not too depressing.”

“No, Jesus, thanks. I got to keep riding. I got to get home. I have a kid there alone.”

“Nelson.”

“Right! What a memory! So thanks a lot. You look great.”

“Delightful to see you again, Harry. Let’s do make a more leisurely occasion sometime. Where are you living?”

“Over in Penn Villas, they put it up since you were here. Things are a little vague right now …”

“I understand,” Eccles says, quickly, for the bus is chuffing and groaning to a stop. Yet he finds time to put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, up near the neck. His voice changes quality, beseeches, becomes again a preacher’s: “I think these are marvellous times to be alive in, and I’d love to share my good news with you at your leisure.”