So naturally and easily she led me away from my embarrassment and into talking of books, relieving me of self-consciousness and some of the mortification in being exposed at my humble job by the “representative” of the telegram. I admitted deficient knowledge of mathematics and ignorance of Mr. Whitehead though I maintained, accurately, that the book was not in stock, while she assured me that only a specialist would have heard of so obscure a theoretician. This made me ask, with the awe one feels for an expert in an alien field, if she were a mathematician, to which she replied, “Heavens, no. I'm a physicist. But mathematics is my tool.”
I looked at her with respect. Anyone, I thought, can read a few books and set himself up as a historian; to be a physicist means genuine learning. And I doubted she was much older than I.
She said abruptly, “My father is interested in knowing something about you.”
I acknowledged this with something between a nod and a bow. She had been examining and gauging me for the past half hour. “Your father is Thomas Haggerwells?”
“Haggerwells of Haggershaven,” she confirmed, as though explaining everything. There was pride in her voice and a hint of superciliousness.
“I'm dreadfully sorry, Miss Haggerwells, but I'm afraid I'm as ignorant of Haggershaven as of mathematics.”
“I thought you said you'd been reading history. Odd you've come upon no reference to the Haven in the records of the past seventy-five years.”
I shook my head helplessly. “I suppose my reading has been scattered.” Her look indicated agreement but not absolution. “Haggershaven is a college?”
“No. Haggershaven is… Haggershaven.” She resumed her equanimity, her air of smiling tolerance. “It's hardly a college since it has no student body nor faculty. Rather, both are one at the Haven. Anyone admitted is a scholar or potential scholar anxious to devote himself to learning. I mean for its own sake. Not many are acceptable.”
She need hardly have added this; it seemed obvious I could not be one of the elect, even if I hadn't offended her by never having heard of Haggershaven. I knew I couldn't pass the most lenient of entrance examinations to ordinary colleges, much less to the dedicated place she represented.
“There aren't any formal requirements for fellowship,” she went on, “beyond the undertaking to work to full capacity, to pool all knowledge and hold back none from scholars anywhere, to contribute economically to the Haven in accordance with decisions of the majority of fellows, and to vote on questions without consideration of personal gain. There! That certainly sounds like the stuffiest manifesto delivered this year.”
“It sounds too good to be true.”
“Oh, it's true enough.” She moved close, and I caught the scent of her hair and skin. “But there's another side. The Haven is neither wealthy nor endowed. We have to earn our living. The fellows draw no stipend; they have food, clothes, shelter, whatever books and materials they need—no unessentials. We often have to leave our own individual work to do manual labor to bring in food or money for all.”
“I've read of such communities,” I said enthusiastically. “I thought they'd all disappeared fifty or sixty years ago.”
“Have you and did you?” she asked contemptuously. “You'll be surprised to learn that Haggershaven is neither Owenite nor Fourierist. We are not fanatics nor saviors. We don't live in phalansteries, practice group marriage or vegetarianism. Our organization is expedient, subject to revision, not doctrinaire. Contribution to the common stock is voluntary, and we are not concerned with each other's private lives.”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Haggerwells. I didn't mean to annoy you.”
“It's all right. Perhaps I'm touchy; all my life I've seen the squinty suspiciousness of the farmers all around, sure we were up to something immoral, or at least illegal. You've no idea what a prickly armor you build around yourself when you know that every yokel is cackling, 'There goes one of them; I bet they…' whatever unconventional practice their imaginations can conceive at the moment. And the parallel distrust of the respectable schools. Detachedly, the Haven may indeed be a refuge for misfits, but is it necessarily wrong not to fit into the civilization around us?”
“I'm prejudiced. I certainly haven't fitted in myself.”
She didn't answer, and I felt I had gone too far in daring an impulsive identification. Awkwardness made me blurt out further, “Do you... do you think there's any chance Haggershaven would accept me?” Whatever reserve I'd tried to maintain deserted me; my voice expressed only childish longing.
“I couldn't say,” she answered primly. “Acceptance or rejection depends entirely on the vote of the whole fellowship. All I'm here to offer is train fare. Neither you nor the Haven is bound.”
“I'm perfectly willing to be bound,” I said fervently.
“You may not be so rash after a few weeks.”
I was about to reply when Little Aggie—so called to distinguish her from Fat Aggie, who was in much the same trade but more successful—came in. Little Aggie supplemented her nocturnal earnings around Astor Place by begging in the same neighborhood during the day.
“Sorry, Aggie,” I said. “Mr. Tyss didn't leave anything for you.”
“Maybe the lady would help a poor working girl down on her luck,” she suggested, coming close. “My, that's a pretty outfit you have. Looks like real silk, too.”
Barbara Haggerwells drew away with anger and loathing on her face. “No,” she refused sharply. “No, nothing!” She turned to me. “I must be going. I'll leave you to entertain your friend.”
“Oh, I'll go,” said Little Aggie cheerfully, “no need to get in an uproar. Bye-bye.”
I was frankly puzzled; the puritanical reaction didn't seem consistent. I would have expected condescending amusement, disdainful tolerance, or even haughty annoyance, but not this furious aversion. “I'm sorry Little Aggie bothered you. She's really not a wicked character, and she does have a hard time getting along.”
“I'm sure you must enjoy her company immensely. I'm sorry we can't offer similar attractions at the Haven.”
Apparently she thought my relations with Aggie were professional. Even so her attitude was odd. I could hardly flatter myself she was interested in me as a man, yet her flare-up seemed to indicate jealousy, a strange kind of jealousy, perhaps like the sensuality I attributed to her, as though the mere presence of another woman was an affront. “Please don't go yet. For one thing—” I cast around for something to hold her till I could restore a more favorable impression. “—for one thing you haven't told me how Haggershaven happened to get my application.”
She gave me a cold, angry look. “Even though we're supposed to be cranks, orthodox educators often turn such letters over to us. After all, they may want to apply themselves someday.”
The picture this suddenly presented, of a serene academic life which was not so serene and secure after all, but prepared for a way to escape if necessary, was startling to me. I had taken it for granted that our colleges, even though they were far inferior to those of other countries, were stable and sheltered.
When I expressed something of this, she laughed. “Hardly. The colleges have not only decayed, they have decayed faster than other institutions. They are mere hollow shells, ruined ornaments of the past. Instructors spy on each other to curry favor with the trustees and assure themselves of reappointment when the faculty is out periodically. Loyalty is the touchstone, but no one knows anymore what the object of loyalty is supposed to be. Certainly it is no longer toward learning, for that is the least of their concerns.”
She slowly allowed herself to be coaxed back into her previous mood, and again we talked of books. And now I thought there was a new warmth in her voice and glance, as though she had won some kind of victory, but how or over whom there was no indication.