A HARD CUSTOMER.
Walter stopped long enough at Buffalo to visit Niagara Falls, as he had
intended. Though he enjoyed the visit, and found the famous cataract
fully up to his expectations, no incident occurred during the visit
which deserves to be chronicled here. He resumed his journey, and
arrived in due time at Cleveland.
He had no difficulty in finding the office of Mr. Greene, the agent of
Messrs. Flint & Pusher. He found that this gentleman, besides his
agency, had a book and stationery business of his own.
"I don't go out myself," he said to Walter; "but I keep a supply of
Flint's books on hand, and forward them to his agents as called for.
Have you done much in the business?"
"No, sir, I am only a beginner. I have done nothing yet."
"I thought not. You look too young."
"Mr. Pusher told me I had better be guided by your advice."
"I'll advise you as well as I can. First, I suppose you want to know
where to go."
"Yes, sir."
"You had better go fifty miles off at least. The immediate neighborhood
has been pretty well canvassed. There's C---- now, a flourishing and
wealthy town. Suppose you go there first."
"Very well, sir."
"It's on the line of railway. Two hours will carry you there."
"I'll go, this afternoon."
"You are prompt."
"I want to get to work as soon as possible."
"I commend your resolution. It speaks well for your success."
Walter arrived in C---- in time for supper. He went to a small public
house, where he found that he could board for a dollar and a half a day,
or seven dollars by the week. He engaged a week's board, reflecting that
he could probably work to advantage a week in so large a place, or, if
not, that five days at the daily rate would amount to more than the
weekly terms.
He did not at first propose to do anything that evening until it
occurred to him that he might perhaps dispose of a copy of his book to
the landlord in part payment for his board. He went into the public room
after supper.
"Are you travelling alone?" asked the landlord, who had his share of
curiosity.
"Yes," said Walter.
"Not on business?"
"Yes, on business."
"What might it be now? You are rather young to be in business."
"I am a book-agent."
"Meeting with pretty good success?"
"I'm just beginning," said Walter, smiling. "If you'll be my first
customer, I'll stop with you a week."
"What kind of a book have you got?"
Walter showed it. It was got up in the usual style of subscription
books, with abundance of illustrations.
"It's one of the best books we ever sent out," said Walter, in a
professional way. "Just look at the number of pictures. If you've got
any children, they'll like it; and, if you haven't, it will be just the
book for your centre-table."
"I see you know how to talk," said the landlord, smiling. "What is the
price?"
"Three dollars and a half."
"That's considerable."
"But you know I'm going to take it out in board."
"Well, that's a consideration, to be sure. A man doesn't feel it so much
as if he took the money out of his pocket and paid cash down. What do
you say, Mrs. Burton?" addressing his wife, who just then entered the
room. "This young man wants to stay here a week, and pay partly in a
book he is agent for. Shall I agree?"
"Let me see the book," said Mrs. Burton, who was a comely,
pleasant-looking woman of middle age. "What's the name of it?"
"'Scenes in Bible Lands,'" said Walter.
He opened it, taking care to display and point out the pictures.
"I declare it is a nice book," said Mrs. Burton. "Is there a picture of
Jerusalem?"
"Here it is," said Walter, who happened to know just where to find it.
"Isn't it a good picture? And there are plenty more as good. It's a book
that ought to be in every family."
"Really, Mr. Burton, I don't know but we might as well take it," said
the landlady. "He takes it out in board, you know."
"Just as you say," said the landlord. "I am willing."
"Then I'll take the book. Emma will like to look at it."
So Walter made the first sale, on which he realized a profit of one
dollar and a quarter.
"It's a pretty easy way to earn money," he reflected with satisfaction,
"if I can only sell copies enough. One copy sold will pay for a day's
board."
He went to bed early, and enjoyed a sound and refreshing sleep. He was
cheered with hopes of success on the morrow. If he could sell four
copies a day, that would give him a profit of five dollars, and five
dollars would leave him a handsome profit after paying expenses.
The next morning after breakfast he started out, carrying with him three
books. Knowing nothing of the residents of the village, he could only
judge by the outward appearance of their houses. Seeing a large and
handsome house standing back from the street, he decided to call.
"The people living here must be rich," he thought. "They won't mind
paying three dollars and a half for a nice book."
Accordingly he walked up the gravelled path and rang the front-door
bell. The door was opened by a housemaid.
"Is the lady of the house at home?" asked Walter.
"Do you want to see her?"
"Yes."
"Then wait here, and I'll tell her."
A tall woman, with a thin face and a pinched expression, presented
herself after five minutes.
"Well, young man," she asked, after a sharp glance, "what is your
business?"
Her expression was not very encouraging, but Walter was bound not to
lose an opportunity.
"I should like to show you a new book, madam," he commenced, "a book of
great value, beautifully illustrated, which is selling like wildfire."
"How many copies have you sold?" inquired the lady, sharply.
"One," answered Walter, rather confused.
"Do you call that selling like wildfire?" she demanded with sarcasm.
"I only commenced last evening," said Walter, "I referred to the sales
of other agents."
"What's the name of the book?"
"'Scenes in Bible Lands.'"
"Let me see it."
Walter displayed the book.
"Look at the beautiful pictures," he said.
"I don't see anything remarkable about them. The binding isn't very
strong. Shouldn't wonder if the book would go to pieces in a week."
"I don't think there'll be any trouble that way," said Walter.
"If it does, you'll be gone, so it won't trouble you."
"With ordinary care it will hold long enough."
"Oh, yes, of course you'd say so. I expected it. How much do you charge
for the book?"
"Three dollars and a half."
"Three dollars and a half!" repeated the woman. "You seem to think
people are made of money."
"I don't fix the price, madam," said Walter, rather provoked. "The
publishers do that."
"I warrant they make two-thirds profit. Don't they now?"
"I don't know," said Walter. "I don't know anything about the cost of
publishing books; but this is a large one, and there are a great many
pictures in it. They must have cost considerable."
"Seems to me it's ridiculous to ask such a price for a book. Why, it's
enough to buy a nice dress pattern!"
"The book will last longer than the dress," said Walter.
"But it is not so necessary. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'd like the
book well enough to put on my parlor-table. I'll give you two dollars
for it."
"Two dollars!" ejaculated Walter, scarcely crediting the testimony of
his ears.
"Yes, two dollars; and I warrant you'll make money enough then."
"I should lose money," said Walter. "I couldn't think of accepting such
an offer."
"In my opinion there isn't any book worth even two dollars."
"I see we can't trade," said Walter, disgusted at such meanness in a
lady who occupied so large a house, and might be supposed to have plenty
of money.
He began to replace the book in its brown-paper covering.
"I don't know but I might give you twenty-five cents more. Come now,
I'll give you two dollars and a quarter."
"I can't take it," said Walter, shortly. "Three dollars and a half is
the price, and I will not take a cent less."
"You won't get it out of me then," retorted the lady, slamming the door
in displeasure.
Walter had already made up his mind to this effect, and had started on
his way to the gate.
"I wonder if I shall meet many people like her," he thought, and his
courage was rather damped.