The lamp, turned low, was emitting a terrible odor as they entered the sitting room.
"My goodness! it's almost twelve o'clock. Good night." She held out her hand.
"Good night," he said, taking it, and giving it a cordial pressure which she remembered long.
"Good night," she repeated softly, going up the stairs.
Hartley came in a few moments later, and found Bert sitting thoughtfully by the fire, with his coat and shoes off, evidently in deep abstraction.
"Well, I got away at last—much as ever. Great scheme, that sociable, eh? I saw your little girl introducing you right and left."
"Say, Hartley, I wish you'd leave her out of this thing; I don't like the way you speak of her when——"
"Phew! You don't? Oh, all right! I'm mum as an oyster—only keep it up! Get in all the church sociables, and all that; there's nothing like it."
Hartley soon had canvassers out along the country roads, and was working every house in town. The campaign promised to lengthen into a month, perhaps longer. Albert especially became a great favorite. Every one declared there had never been such book agents in the town: such gentlemanly fellows, they didn't press anybody to buy; they didn't rush about and "poke their noses where they were not wanted." They were more like merchants with books to sell. The only person who failed to see the attraction in them was Ed Brann, who was popularly supposed to be engaged to Maud. He grew daily more sullen and repellent, toward Albert noticeably so.