e of each house, the one holding the horse while the
other took the soap samples and interviewed any one who seemed of a
coming-on disposition. Emma Jane had disposed of three single cakes,
Rebecca of three small boxes; for a difference in their ability to
persuade the public was clearly defined at the start, though neither of
them ascribed either success or defeat to anything but the imperious
force of circumstances. Housewives looked at Emma Jane and desired no
soap; listened to her description of its merits, and still desired
none. Other stars in their courses governed Rebecca's doings. The
people whom she interviewed either remembered their present need of
soap, or reminded themselves that they would need it in the future; the
notable point in the case being that lucky Rebecca accomplished, with
almost no effort, results that poor little Emma Jane failed to attain
by hard and conscientious labor.

"It's your turn, Rebecca, and I'm glad, too," said Emma Jane, drawing
up to a gateway and indicating a house that was set a considerable
distance from the road. "I haven't got over trembling from the last
place yet." (A lady had put her head out of an upstairs window and
called, "Go away, little girl; whatever you have in your box we don't
want any.") "I don't know who lives here, and the blinds are all shut
in front. If there's nobody at home you mustn't count it, but take the
next house as yours."

Rebecca walked up the lane and went to the side door. There was a porch
there, and seated in a rocking-chair, husking corn, was a good-looking
young man, or was he middle aged? Rebecca could not make up her mind.
At all events he had an air of the city about him,--well-shaven face,
well-trimmed mustache, well-fitting clothes. Rebecca was a trifle shy
at this unexpected encounter, but there was nothing to be done but
explain her presence, so she asked, "Is the lady of the house at home?"

"I am the lady of the house at present," said the stranger, with a
whimsical smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Have you ever heard of the--would you like, or I mean--do you need any
soap?" queried Rebecca.

"Do I look as if I did?" he responded unexpectedly.

Rebecca dimpled. "I didn't mean THAT; I have some soap to sell; I mean
I would like to introduce to you a very remarkable soap, the best now
on the market. It is called the"--

"Oh! I must know that soap," said the gentleman genially. "Made out of
pure vegetable fats, isn't it?"