Speaking of fool buys, naturally reminds me of the time your Ma and I were boarding with your Aunt Maria over in Saugus. We'd just been married, and I was spending my days bossing the sole leather room in Clough & Spinney's, and my nights in trying to figure how the fellow who said two can live as cheaply as one got his answer.
Your Aunt Maria was a good woman, but so tight she squeaked, and when she let go of a dollar the eagle usually left his tail feathers behind.
Aunt Maria, in my estimation, was the most unlikely prospect in the whole of Massachusetts, for a book agent, but one day a slick specimen representing, "The Heroines of English Literature," blew into her parlor, and when he left he had fifty dollars, in cash mind you, of her money, and an order for a set of twenty volumes.
The next day, when she had somewhat recovered from the effects of her severe gassing; and had begun to think of that fifty, lost forever, her mouth looked as though she had been eating green persimmons, and she was about as amicable as a former heavy weight champion just after he has lost his title.
For a month we had so many baked bean suppers, your Ma and I began to wonder if she had bought the world's supply, and took to accepting invitations from people we didn't like.
Now Aunt Maria in spite of her closeness, was some punkins in Saugus society. She was president of the Sewing Circle, and a strenuous leader in the Eastern Star, and one Saturday afternoon about six weeks after she had invested in, "The Heroines of English Literature," the Sewing Circle was holding a meeting in her parlor, while I was in the dining room trying to figure out a trip to the Isle of Shoals for your Ma and me.
After they had got through shooting to pieces the reputation of the absent members, and had guzzled their tea, one of the bunch spied "The Heroines" on a little side table where Aunt Maria had installed them upon their arrival. Out of sheer curiosity, the crowd fell upon them with cackles of delight, and to make themselves solid with their president, praised the books to the sky.
Aunt Maria saw a great light; and before her guests left she had sold them enough sets so that the commissions from the publishers more than made up her fifty dollars, and as a special favor to her dearest friend she delivered her own set to her then and there. For a time, after that, "The Heroines" were the most popular reading matter that ever hit Saugus. Popular with the women, I mean, for the men figured Aunt Maria's epidemic of literature cost them a good many new suits of clothes, and the village watch dogs almost went on a strike, because there were so many collectors coming around after partial payments it was hard for a dog to tell whether they were tramps or new members of his family.