Cecilia Lefingwell Prynne (Mrs. Gütz)
If, in passing a New-England farmhouse, you see a fine piece of old furniture through the open front doorway [which is not probable, as the front doors are seldom used], or if perchance you spy upon the veranda, or in the fairway beside the barn, some rare old bit of glass, a bow-backed pine Windsor chair, a tambo-door sideboard, or a hooked rug, or any other article you may wish to purchase, it will be well for you not to approach the subject directly, but in a somewhat roundabout manner, as the peasants of this section are [on account of bitter experience] extremely suspicious of strangers; and if they perceive that you wish to buy anything of them, they are likely to become instantly so fond of the object of your desire that they will decline to part with it; or they may get the notion that you are connected with the prohibition enforcement laws and are merely disguising your real interest in how hard their cider has turned. Therefore the editors have asked me to prepare a few model dialogues which may be found useful in this connection. The form of approach suggested can profitably be studied by the motorist collector.
Dialogue One
[Mr. B., a Chicago collector of hooked rugs, has observed a fine specimen hanging on a clothes-line beside a New Hampshire farmhouse. Mr. B. descends from his car and approaches the proprietor, who is sawing wood near the kitchen wing.]
Mr. B.: Good-morning. I stopped to inquire if you have a calf for sale.
Peasant: Did ye?
Mr. B.: I am willing to pay quite a good price for an original she-calf in fair condition.
Peasant: Be ye?
Mr. B.: I would pay $350 for a really excellent she-calf.