"I have taken the liberty to call upon you this morning, to see if you did not wish to purchase a copy of 'The Wayfarer'—a new book just issued from the press, which people say is to be the book of the season."
My young readers need not suppose this was an impromptu speech, for Bobby had studied upon it all the time he was coming from Boston in the cars. It would be quite natural for a boy who had enjoyed no greater educational advantages than our hero to consider how he should address people into whose presence his calling would bring him; and he had prepared several little addresses of this sort, for the several different kinds of people whom he expected to encounter. The one he had just "got off" was designed for the "upper crust."
When he had delivered the speech, he approached the indignant, frowning nabob, and, with a low bow, offered him a copy of "The Wayfarer."
"Boy," said Colonel Whiting, raising his arm with majestic dignity, and pointing to the door,—"boy, do you see that door?"
Bobby looked at the door, and, somewhat astonished, replied that he did see it, that it was a very handsome door, and he would inquire whether it was black walnut, or only painted in imitation thereof.
"Do you see that door?" thundered the nabob, swelling with rage at the cool impudence of the boy.
"Certainly I do, sir; my eyesight is excellent."
"Then use it!"
"Thank you, sir; I have no use for it. Probably it will be of more service to you than to me."
"Will you clear out, or shall I kick you out?" gasped the enraged magnate of B——.