s laughed at,
even sneered at, by the supercilious rich, the handsomely gowned women
and the dissipated looking men. No one appeared to wish his jellies.

The little sister had better luck. The women turned from her, but the
men gathered about her and quickly bought out the stock. She went to
the car for more and the men followed her. To Merton, who watched these
scenes, the dramatist's intention was plain. These men did not really
care for jellies and jams, they were attracted solely by the wild-rose
beauty of the little country girl. And they were plainly the sort of men
whose attentions could mean no good to such as she.

Left on the porch, he was now directed to approach a distinguished
looking old gentleman, probably a banker and a power in Wall Street, who
read his morning papers. Timidly he stood before this person, thrusting
forward his basket. The old gentleman glanced up in annoyance and
brutally rebuffed the country boy with an angry flourish of the paper he
read.

"You're hurt by this treatment," called Baird, "and almost discouraged.
You look back over your shoulder to where sister is doing a good
business with her stuff, and you see the old mother back in her kitchen,
working her fingers to the bone--we'll have a flash of that, see?--and
you try again. Take out that bottle in the corner of the basket, uncork
it, and try again. The old man looks up-he's smelled something. You hold
the bottle toward him and you're saying so-and-so, so-and-so, so-and-so,
'Oh, Mister, if you knew how hard my poor old mother works to make this
stuff! Won't you please take a little taste of her improved grape juice
and see if you don't want to buy a few shillings' worth'--so-and-so,
so-and-so, so-and-so--see what I mean? That's it, look pleading. Think
how the little home depends on it."

The old gentleman, first so rude, consented to taste the improved grape
juice. He put the bottle to his lips and tilted it. A camera was brought
up to record closely the look of pleased astonishment that enlivened his
face. He arose to his feet, tilted the bottle again, this time drinking
abundantly. He smacked his lips with relish, glanced furtively at the
group of women in the background, caught the country boy by a sleeve and
drew him farther along the porch.

"He's telling you what fine stuff this grape juice is," explained Baird;
"saying that your mother must be a wonderful old lady, and he'll drop
over to meet her; and in the meantim