There is another moss-grown swindle, which, like hope, seems to
"spring perennial" in the greater cities.
This is the old-time coupon swindle. A suave young man appears at the
door, inserts his foot in the crack, if you try to slam it in his
face, and rapidly begins to explain that he has something to offer
you for nothing. The housewife sighs with resignation, and admits the
suave young man, thinking that she might as well get it over. But let
the housewife herself talk. Here is the story of a good woman who was
caught by one of these pettifogging grafters:
"Since my husband died I have partly earned my living by
renting furnished rooms. This seems to be the first thing
a woman thinks of doing when she is left unprovided for,
but it isn't a business of large profits, and few of us
ever cut 'melons.' My furniture, of course, represented my
'plant,' and it was growing shabby.
"That is, perhaps, why the glib agent got a hearing from
me. He had a lovely proposition. Opening a catalogue he
showed me pictures of beautiful pieces of furniture, made
from expensive materials, just the kind that would make my
rooms attractive and easy to rent.
"'Now,' said he, 'I am soliciting subscriptions for a weekly
paper. This paper will cost you 10 cents a number, and with
each number you get a coupon. When you have accumulated
sixty-eight coupons you can bring them to our wareroom and
select any one of these elegant pieces of furniture.'
"'Why,' said I, 'if these articles are as represented, I
couldn't buy them at any store in town for three times what
sixty-eight coupons would cost me--$6.80.'