“You like going to fairs?”
“Very much.” He knew that her inane remarks were formal gambits to start a conversation. He did not resent it; lonely old women have need of talk with strangers-and so did he. Besides, he liked perky old women. They seemed the very spirit of America to him, putting him in mind of church sociables and farm kitchens-and covered wagons.
“I like fairs, too,” she went on. “I even used to exhibit-quince jelly and my Crossing-the-Jordan pattern.”
“Blue ribbons, I’ll bet.”
“Some,” she admitted, “but mostly I just liked to go to them. I’m Mrs. Alma Hill Evans. Mr. Evans was a great one for doings. Take the exposition when they opened the Panama Canal-but you wouldn’t rememher that.”
John Watts admitted that he had not been there.
“It wasn’t the best of the lot, anyway. The Fair of ’93, there was a fair for you: There’ll never be one that’ll even be a patch on that one.”
“Until this one, perhaps?”
“This one? Pish and tush! Size isn’t everything.” The All-American Exposition would certainly be the biggest thing yet-and the best. If only Martha were along, it would seem like heaven. The old lady changed the subject. “You’re a traveling man, aren’t you?”
He hesitated, then answered, “Yes.”
“I can always tell. What line are you in, young man?”
He hesitated longer, then said flatly, “I travel in elephants.”
She looked at him sharply and he wanted to explain, but loyalty to Martha kept his mouth shut. Martha had insisted that they treat their calling seriously, never explaining, never apologizing. They had taken it up when he had planned to retire; they had been talking of getting an acre of ground and doing something useful with radishes or rabbits, or such. Then, during their final trip over his sales route, Martha had announced after a long silence. “John, you don’t want to stop traveling.”
“Eh? Don’t I? You mean we should keep the territory?”
“No, that’s done. But we won’t settle down, either.”
“What do you want to do? Just gypsy around?”
“Not exactly. I think we need some new line to travel in.”
“Hardware? Shoes? Ladies’ ready-to-wear?”
“No.” She had stopped to think. “We ought to travel in something. It gives point to your movements. I think it ought to be something that doesn’t turn over too fast, so that we could have a really large territory, say the whole United States.”
“Battleships perhaps?”
“Battleships are out of date, but that’s close.” Then they had passed a barn with a tattered circus poster. “I’ve got it!” She had shouted. “Elephants! We’ll travel in elephants.”
“Elephants, eh? Rather hard to carry samples.”
“We don’t need to. Everybody knows what an elephant looks like. Isn’t that right, Mr. Jenkins?” The invisible burro had agreed with Martha, as he always did; the matter was settled.
Martha had known just how to go about it. “First we make a survey. We’ll have to comb the United States from corner to corner before we’ll be ready to take orders.”
For ten years they had conducted the survey. It was an excuse to visit every fair, zoo, exposition, stock show, circus, or punkin doings anywhere, for were they not all prospective customers? Even national parks and other natural wonders were included in the survey, for how was one to tell where a pressing need for an elephant might turn up? Martha had treated the matter with a straight face and had kept a dog-eared notebook: “La Brea Tar Pits, Los Angeles-surplus of elephants, obsolete type, in these parts about 25,000 years ago.” “Philadelphia-sell at least six to the Union League.” “Brookfield Zoo, Chicago-African elephants, rare.” “Gallup, New Mexico-stone elephants east of town, very beautiful.” “Riverside, California, Elephant Barbershop-brace owner to buy mascot.” “Portland, Oregon-query Douglas Fir Association. Recite Road to Mandalay. Same for Southern Pine group. N.B. this calls for trip to Gulf Coast as soon as we finish with rodeo in Laramie.”
Ten years and they had enjoyed every mile of it. The survey was still unfinished when Martha had been taken. John wondered if she had buttonholed Saint Peter about the elephant situation in the Holy City. He’d bet a nickel she had.