"Indeed. Ah—then—you don't live here?"
"No," he answered, and told her.
"O-oh, my," she echoed tremulously. "It must be fine away up in the great northwest. And—do you expect to be here—er, some time?"
"For a few months at least." Whereupon she inquired as to his business, and he likewise inquired of hers.
"I am employed in service," she said.
Now it happened that Sidney had, a few months before, met an agent in Dayton, who persisted in canvassing nowhere else but among this class. He thought of this, and made inquiry. He was told in reply, that practically all the domestics were colored.
"I would like to see the book you sell," she said, presently. "If you could bring it to the number where I am employed, and if, after seeing it I am pleased with it, I would buy one." He could not have wished for anything better, and told her so. Elevating his eye brows in pleased delight, he said:
"I most assuredly will. Only tell me how I may get there—I'll make a note of it," and he immediately did so.
"Catch a Plum Street car," she directed, "and get off at West Eleventh Street, walk a block and a half west until you see a large house numbered 40. They are Jews, so, should you lose the number, inquire for Hershes'. You may call any time after two P.M."
"I will be there tomorrow at that hour if the sun rises, and if it doesn't, I'll be there anyway," he laughed. She was amused.