It's a great book an'
they's all out'n print 'cept these three, which I hain't no doubt many
folks would be glad to give their weight in gold fer, an' some over."
"Stand out of the light, McNutt."
The agent shifted his position.
"Them books, sir----"
"Oh, take 'em away."
"What!"
"I don't read novels."
McNutt scratched his head, perplexed at the rebuff. His "dee looks"
speech had usually resulted in a sale. An idea flashed across his
brain--perhaps evolved by the scratching.
"The young lady, sir--"
"Oh, the girls are loaded with books," growled the nabob.
The agent became desperate.
"But the young lady in the hammick, sir, as I jest now left, says to
tell ye she wants one o' these books mighty bad, an' hopes you'll buy it
for her eddificationing."
"Oh; she does, eh?"
"Mighty bad, sir."
Uncle John watched Thomas polish a buckle.
"Is it a moral work?" he asked.
"Nuthin' could be moraler, sir. All 'bout the lives o'--"
"How much is it?"
"Comes pretty high, sir. Three dollars. But it's--"
"Here. Take your money and get out. You're interrupting me."
"Very sorry, sir. Much obleeged, sir. Where'll I leave the book?"
"Throw it in the manger."
McNutt selected a volume that had a broken corner and laid it carefully
on the edge of the oat-bin.
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