"I am agent for an excellent book," commenced Walter.
"Oh, you're a peddler," broke in the old lady, without waiting to hear him through.
"I suppose I may be called so."
"Are you the man that was round last spring selling jewelry?"
"No, I have never been here before."
"I don't know whether to believe you or not," said the old lady. "Your voice sounds like his. I can't see very well, for I've mislaid my specs. If you're the same man, I'll have you took up for selling bogus jewelry."
"But I'm not the same one."
"I don't know. The man I spoke of sold my darter a gold ring for a dollar, that turned out to be nothing but brass washed over. 'Twa'n't worth five cents."
"I'm sorry you got cheated, but it isn't my fault."