Strong and Steady

"Yes, it sells largely. I have only just commenced, but other agents are doing well on it."

"You are rather young for an agent."

"Yes, but I'm old enough to work, and I'm going to give this a fair trial."

"That's the way to talk. How much do you expect to get for this book?"

"The price is three dollars and a half."

"It's rather high."

"But there are a good many pictures. Those are what cost money."

"Yes, I suppose they do. Well, I've a great mind to take one."

"I don't think you'll regret it. A good book will give you pleasure for a long time."

"That's so. Well, here's the money;" and the shoemaker drew out five dollars from a leather pocket-book. "Can you give me the change?"

"With pleasure."

Walter was all the more pleased at effecting this sale because it was unexpected. He had expected to sell a book at the great house he had just called at, but thought that the price of the book might deter the shoemaker, whose income probably was not large. He thought he would like to know the name of the lady with whom he had such an unpleasant experience.

"Can you tell me," he inquired, "who lives in that large house a little way up the street?"

"You didn't sell a book there, did you?" asked the shoemaker, laughing.

"No, but I got an offer of two dollars for one."

"That's just like Mrs. Belknap," returned the other. "She has the name of being the meanest woman for miles around."

"It can't be for want of money. She lives in a nice house."

"Oh, she's rich enough,—the richest woman in town. When her husband was alive—old Squire Belknap—she wasn't quite so scrimping, for he was free-handed and liberal himself; but now she's a widow, she shows out her meanness. So she offered you two dollars?"

"Yes, but she afterwards offered twenty-five cents more."

"Then she must have wanted the book. She makes it her boast that no peddler ever took her in, and I guess she's about right."

"I hope there are not many such people in town. If there are, I shall get discouraged."

"We've got our share of mean people, I expect, but she's the worst."

"Well, I suppose I must be going. Thank you for your purchase."

"That's all right. If I like the book as well as I expect, I'll thank you."

Walter left the shoemaker's shop with considerably higher spirits than he entered. His confidence in human nature, which had been rudely shaken by Mrs. Belknap, was in a degree restored, and his prospects looked brighter than a few minutes before.

"I wonder who'll make the next purchase?" he thought.

He stopped at a plain two-story house a little further up the road. The door was opened by an old lady.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I am agent for an excellent book," commenced Walter.

"Oh, you're a peddler," broke in the old lady, without waiting to hear him through.

"I suppose I may be called so."

"Are you the man that was round last spring selling jewelry?"

"No, I have never been here before."

"I don't know whether to believe you or not," said the old lady. "Your voice sounds like his. I can't see very well, for I've mislaid my specs. If you're the same man, I'll have you took up for selling bogus jewelry."

"But I'm not the same one."

"I don't know. The man I spoke of sold my darter a gold ring for a dollar, that turned out to be nothing but brass washed over. 'Twa'n't worth five cents."

"I'm sorry you got cheated, but it isn't my fault."

"Wait a minute, I'll call my darter."

In reply to her mother's call a tall maiden lady of forty advanced to the door, with some straw in her hand, for she was braiding straw.

"What's wanted, mother?" she asked.

"Isn't this the same man that sold you that ring?"

"La, no, mother. He was a man of forty-five, and this is only a boy."

"I s'pose you must be right, but I can't see without my specs. Well, I'm sorry you're not the one, for I'd have had you took up onless you'd give back the dollar."

Under the circumstances Walter himself was not sorry that there was no chance of identifying him with his knavish predecessor.

"What have you got to sell?" asked the younger woman.

"A book beautifully illustrated, called 'Scenes in Bible Lands.' Will you allow me to show it to you?"

"He seems quite polite," said the old lady, now disposed to regard Walter more favorably. "Won't you come in?"

Walter entered, and was shown into a small sitting-room, quite plainly furnished. The book was taken from him, and examined for a considerable length of time by the daughter, who, however, announced at the end that though she should like it very much, she couldn't afford to pay the price. As the appearance of the house bore out her assertion, Walter did not press the purchase, but was about to replace the book under his arm, when she said suddenly, "Wait a minute. There's Mrs. Thurman just coming in. Perhaps she'll buy one of your books."

Walter was of course perfectly willing to wait on the chance of a sale.

Mrs. Thurman was the wife of a trader in good circumstances, and disposed to spend liberally, according to her means. Walter was not obliged to recommend his book, for this was done by the spinster, who was disinterestedly bent on making a sale. So he sat quiet, a passive but interested auditor, while Miss Nancy Sprague extolled the book for him.