“'Katie,' I says, 'call your ma out here a minute. If I can sell a copy of this volume I am willing to sell my birthmark for a mess of potash any day of the week.'
“'That,' she says, cheerful, 'is spoke like a financier and a gentleman.'
“With that she started for the front room, but just then the door swung open, and out came her ma and Sammy, tired with fatigue, but satisfied.
“'What!' says the young daughter, 'is the tie untied? Is the jawfest concluded?'
“'It is,' says the maternal ancestor of that girl, weak but happy. 'We talked seven miles and six furloughs, but I won. He has renounced his sin. He ain't no son of no author. I've boughten his book.'
“I gazed at Sammy with a moist, reproachful eye.
“'Sammy! Sammy!' I says, shaking my head, 'to think——'
“'Hush!' he says, 'don't say it. I ain't no Sammy. I ain't no Mills. Them is not my name.'
“'Alas!' I says, mournful, 'am I then deceived since childhood's happy hours?'
“I see the respectable old lady pricking up her ears and getting ready for another season of conversation. Sammy likewise made the same observation, and he fended off the deadly blow.