"'What's the matter with you! Didn't you order this book from me two weeks ago?'" He paused at this stage, and looked at Wyeth again with a savage glare. "But that old devil just kept on laffing like a vaudeville show was before him, instead of me with the book he had ordered, and which he told me to be sure, sure to bring today. My nigga was rising now; but just then I heard a little half-naked kid: 'Uh! Misteh! 'oo might's well ferget it. 'Cause th' ole man there,' pointing to the old sinner, 'orders sumpin' from eve' agent what comes 'long; puvidin' i' do'n cos' nuthin' t' give th' odah.' And all the time that old coon was just laffing, 'ke-ha!'" He gave Wyeth another glare, and went on:
"The next one I come onto looked at the book as though it was something dangerous. And then he squints up at me—I think he must have been near-sighted—and says: 'Sah, I decided since I give you that odah, that I wa'n't go'n' take th' book.' When he saw my eyes, he could see I was mad enough to kill him on the spot. He saw danger in them too, because, near-sighted or not, he began edging away, but again I held back my nigga and says: 'What in Hell you mean by making up your mind like that!'"
"He must have been drinking Sparrow Gin when he gave you that order," suggested Wyeth, with a twinkle of the eye.
"What?" inquired Slim, listening.
"I'd advise you to take along a little corn liquor the next time you go to deliver; pour a little juice into them; get them drunk. They'll take their books then."
Slim kicked a piece of paper on the floor before him viciously, and said: "I'll take along a club and knock their lying heads off their shoulders, 's what I'll do."
"Did you have enough books?" inquired Wyeth, ignoring the big package Slim had brought in.
"You seem possessed with no sympathy, Mr. Wyeth," he complained, and then grew thoughtful. Presently, seeming anxious to tell more of his experiences, he went on. "One woman I had an order from, when I knocked on the door, she opened it and said: 'I'm so sorry, but my husband won't let me take that book,' and then she handed me a nickel, saying, 'so I'm going to give you this for your trouble.' I could not, of course, be ugly, as much as I felt like it, but I had to say something. So I inquired, as kind as I could under the circumstances, 'What am I to do with this?' She looked distressed at first, then brightened with a thought, and replied, as though she were doing something wonderful: 'Why, you can use it for car fare. You won't have to walk back.'"