“You will?” said she, her countenance relaxing into a sort of smile, mingled with a spice of incredulity. “That’s not a common way with you pedlers.”
“O no,” said he, “we live by our trade, and must make a trifle at least now and then; but we must sell, if we don’t make much.”
While the pedler was thus remarking, the woman had approached near the clock, and for the purpose, it would seem, of examining it—the pedler hoped with reference to a purchase. And by way of helping on this decision, he opened the clock—displayed its machinery—and cautiously recommended it, by saying, “it’s a handsome piece of furniture, you see—useful—and, with your leave, it occupies just the place for it.”
“It looks well,” rejoined the woman, “but—” she paused, “I—” she began, and again stopped. At length, however, she added, “I may not purchase it.”
She had laid a more than ordinary emphasis, perhaps unconsciously, on the word purchase. “What!” thought the pedler, “does she expect me to give her a clock?” No, he could not give the clock. That would deprive him of an anticipated and now much desired triumph. But matters now stood in such a position as to demand prompt and decisive action. The pedler, therefore, met the emergency like a tactician. “Madam,” said he, “I ask no money for the clock. I am willing to take such articles in payment as you have to spare, and at your own price.”
The woman fairly stared. The matter wore a new phase.
“I mean just as I say, madam,” said the pedler, observing her apparent surprise. “Just what you have to spare, and at your own price.”
“But what do you ask for the clock?”
“Fifteen dollars—the small sum of fifteen dollars.”
The woman took a seat. For a few minutes she seemed to be abstracted and lost. But at length returning to the subject, she said, “On the terms you propose, I will take the clock.”