The visitor got up, and, fetching his case, opened it, revealing great numbers of shining spectacles, beads and other shoddy adornments.
"We will now fit you to glasses, those of you who need them."
"You, of course, know how to examine eyes?" nodded Elfreda.
"Oh, no. I 'fit' the bows to the ears," answered Mr. Long.
"Yes, but aren't you afraid you will ruin the eyes of the persons you fit glasses to?" questioned Grace.
The Mystery Man smiled.
"I never heard of a person's eyes being ruined by looking through a window," he made reply, raising a merry laugh. "I'll fit you to smoked glasses to protect your eyes from the sun. They won't cost you anything. Neither did they cost me anything. I want my wares known in every home in the mountains, and I want every man, woman and child, and babe in arms, to be seeing things through my eyes, and I'll accomplish it if the window glass holds out."
"Of course we expect to pay you," began Grace.
"Not a cent, not a cent. I should say it might be wise to have them—the glasses—well smoked up like a ham, for there may be doings up here that it were the part of wisdom for you folks not to see. Do the bows fit, Mrs. Gray?" he asked, adjusting a pair of specs to her ears.
"I—I think so."