“I was just going to tell you that,” said Eliph', putting down his book again. “You see, when he left here he went right to St. Louis, that being where his home was, and that was how he happened to have lung-testers with him when he was here. His father made them. That was his father's business. He was in the lung-tester manufacturing business. So when Bill Rossiter left here he went right home to his father, which was the wise thing to do.”
“Went home to sponge on the old man, I suppose,” said Skinner.
“Just so,” agreed Eliph', “and that was how I happened to meet him. There was a man there in St. Louis by the name of Hopper-Darius Hopper-and he owned the Imperial Theater and Museum. He was an old friend of mine, and I had sold him a copy of Jarby's Encyclopedia of Knowledge and Compendium of Literature, Science and Art away back in 1874, and as soon as he heard I was stopping in St. Louis he sent around to the hotel and begged me to come around to the museum and give readings out of Jarby's to the people that come into the museum. He said that it would draw bigger crowds in a cultured city like St. Louis than would come to see a two-headed calf or a fat women's race, being a course of readings that would instruct, entertain and please, and he asked me to name my own price.”
“I should call him a fool,” said Skinner scornfully.
“He wasn't,” said Eliph'. “It took splendid. But I wouldn't let him pay me a cent. I said I considered it my sacred duty to make as many people as I could love and know Jarby's, and that I was doing my best to better the world that way, and was glad to do it free gratis, because in a big place like St. Louis there were many that could not afford even the small price of one dollar down and one dollar a month, which is all that is asked for this splendid volume, containing all the wisdom of the world, from the earliest days to the present time, neatly bound in cloth, and I felt I was helping the cause of progress by reading them a few chapters. I began at page one,” continued Eliph', opening the book in his hands, “skipping the allegorical frontispiece in three colors, and the index in which ten thousand——-”
“I thought you was goin' to tell me about William Rossiter,” said the butcher suspiciously.
“So I am,” said Eliph'. “William Rossiter was on the third floor of the Theater and Museum building, for that was the job his father hunted up for him. William was in charge of the penny-in-the-slot machines of all kinds, a full description of which will be found in this book under the head of 'Machines, Automatic,' including a description of how made, how to use and how to repair. In fact, there is nothing in the way of information, from how to tell the weight of a baby by measuring its waist, to the age, size and history of the immortal pyramids of Egypt, one of the seven wonders of the world, that this book does not contain. It interests alike the student and the business man. And,” he continued quickly as Skinner was about to interrupt him, “among the slot machines of which William Rossiter had charge were twenty-four lung-testers.”
“Twenty-four!” exclaimed Skinner. “Them St. Louis folks must like to test their lungs!”
“No,” said Eliph', “they don't, and that is what makes me feel so bad about William Rossiter. The St Louis people didn't care for lung-testers at all. They crowded pennies into all the other machines, but they would just go up to the lung-testers and sort of sniff at them, and walk away without trying them. So there those twenty-four lung-testers stood, useless to man and beast, all in a row, doing nobody any good, and there I was on the floor below reading out of a book that would have told Bill Rossiter how to make those lung-testers worth their weight in gold, and would have saved his life. And to think he could have bought this book for the small nominal sum of——”
“You said that once,” said Skinner. “Five dollars; one dollar down, and one dollar a month until paid.”