“Madam, my name is Baker, and I am the inventor of the Eureky rat-trap, a sample copy of which I hold here on my left hand, and I think I can safely say that——”
“Sir, this is unpardonable!” she exclaimed, pushing back.
“I didn’t have an introduction to ye, of course,” he replied, holding the trap up higher: “but business is business, you know. Let me sell you a Eureky trap, and make ye happy for life; I warrant this trap to——”
“Sir, I shall call the captain!” she interrupted, turning pale with rage.
“Does he want a trap?” eagerly inquired the man.
“Such impudence deserves the horsewhip!” screamed the old maid, backing away.
The rat-trap man went forward and found a northern invalid, who was so far gone that he could hardly speak above a whisper.
“Ailing, eh?” queried the trapper.
The invalid nodded.
“Wall, I won’t say that my Eureky rat-trap will cure ye,” continued the man; “but this much I do say, and will swear to on a million Bibles, that it climbs the ridge-pole over any immortal vermin-booster ever yet set before——”