“Just so,” said Eliph'. “I don't want to sell you another. To sell this book is the smallest part of my trouble. It is a book that sells itself. I only need to show it, to sell it. Wherever it falls open it attracts the attention with a gem of thought or a flower of knowledge, perhaps the language of gems, or the language of flowers, how to cure boils, how to preserve fruit, each page offers something of value to the mind. A copy of this book in the house is a friend in sickness or in health, a help in business and a companion in pleasure; to the agent it is a source of steady and continuous income. One copy sells another.”
“I said before that I don't want another,” said Miss Sally shortly.
“Let us talk about something else,” said Eliph' Hewlitt, coughing politely behind his hand. “I'll be glad to, but I do not blame you for bringing up the subject of the work I am selling. I make it a rule never to talk book out of business hours, but I am not sensitive, as some book agents are. When Jarby's Encyclopedia of Knowledge and Compendium of Literature, Science and Art is mentioned I am not offended; I am not ashamed of my business—I enjoy it. I could talk of the merits of this unequaled work day and night without stopping and yet not do it full justice, but I don't. When my work is done I stop talking book. I might, to enliven conversation, quote from the 'Five Hundred Ennobling Thoughts from the World's Greatest Authors, Including the Prose and Poetical Gems of All Ages,' containing, as it does, the best thoughts of the greatest minds, suitable for polite and refined conversation, sixty-two solid pages of the, with vingetty portraits of the authors, and a short biographical sketch of each, including date and place of birth, date and place of death, if dead, et cetery. Or I might, to brighten a passing moment, propound one or more of the 'Six Hundred Perplexing Puzzles,' page 987, including charades, conundrums, quaint mathematical catches, et cetery, compiled to brighten the mind and puzzle the wits, suitable for young or old, for grave or gay. It is a book that meets every want of every day, is neatly and durably bound, and the price is only five dollars.”
Miss Sally turned as if to run away, but Eliph' put out his hand and touched her arm lightly.
“But I don't,” he said. “I don't quote, and I don't propound. I put the book aside and I forget. When my work is done I relax my mind. I enter into the pleasures I find most congenial, such as festivals, sociables, fairs, kermesses, picnics, parties, receptions, et cetery, rules and suggestions for conducting all of which are to be found in this book, which is recommended and esteemed by the leaders of society, both in the Four Hundred and out. Or I read a good book, a list of five hundred of which may be found on page 336, 'The Reader's Guide,' giving advice in selecting fiction, history, philosophy, religious works, poetry, et cetery, the whole selected by eight of the most eminent professors of literature in our colleges and universities, both at home and abroad. Or I indulge in conversation, in which what better guide than is to be found on page 662, 'The Polite Conversationalist,' including gems of wit, apt quotations, how to gain and hold the attention, how to amuse, instruct and argue, et cetery? When it is remember that all this, and much more, can be had for only five dollars, neatly bound in cloth, one dollar down and one dollar a month until paid, what wonder is it that—that——”
Suddenly one of the paper lanterns that hung from the wire above them burst into flame, and Eliph' saw on Miss Sally's face the look of fear with which she was regarding him, fear and fascination mingled. The smile faded from his lips, and his gentle blue eyes became troubled. He dropped the hand that had been lightly resting on her arm, and his dapper air of self-confidence wilted in abashment.
“Was I—was I talking book?” he asked weakly. “I was! Pardon me, Miss Briggs, pardon me, I didn't know it. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.”
For a moment Miss Sally studied his face, and she saw only a genuine contrition there, and a regret so deep that she was sorry for him. There could be no doubt of his sincerity.
“Well!” she exclaimed, with a breath of relief; “I do believe you didn't know you was! I believe that book's got so ground into you that you can't help but talk it, like Benny Tenneker, who got so used to climbin' trees an' fallin' out of 'em that he used to climb the bedposts an' fall of of 'em in his sleep without wakin' up. Mrs. Doc Weaver's his aunt, an' when he visited her he nearly got killed fallin' out of bed when he was tryin' to climb a bed post when there wasn't not on the bed. He'd got so he could fall out of any high place an' light safe, but he wasn't used to fallin' off of low ones. He was such a nice boy. All Martha Willing's children were nice. Mebby you've met her. She lives out Clarence way.”
“Willin?” said Eliph'. “Yes, I sold her a—I mean to say, I met her.”