There were three men at work in the shop--one of them a middle-aged
man, the other two young men. They looked like persons of
intelligence, and as soon as Bobby saw them his hopes grew stronger.

"Can I sell you any books to-day?" asked the little merchant, as he
crossed the threshold.

"Well, I don't know; that depends upon how smart you are," replied the
eldest of the men. "It takes a pretty smart fellow to sell anything
in this shop."

"Then I hope to sell each of you a book," added Bobby, laughing at the
badinage of the shoemaker.

Opening his valise he took out three copies of his book, and politely
handed one to each of the men.

"It isn't every book pedler that comes along who offers you such a
work as that. 'The Wayfarer' is decidedly _the_ book of the
season."

"You don't say so!" said the oldest shoemaker, with a laugh. "Every
pedler that comes along uses those words, precisely."

"Do they? They steal my thunder then."

"You are an old one."

"Only thirteen. I was born where they don't fasten the door with a
boiled carrot."

"What do they fasten them with?"

"They don't fasten them at all."

"There are no book pedlers round there, then;" and all the shoemakers
laughed heartily at this smart sally.

"No; they are all shoemakers in our town."

"You can take my hat, boy."

"You will want it to put your head in; but I will take one dollar for
that book instead."

The man laughed, took out his wallet, and handed Bobby the dollar,
probably quite as much because he had a high appreciation of his
smartness, as from any desire to possess the book.

"Won't you take one?" asked Bobby, appealing to another of the men,
who was apparently not more than twenty-four years of age.

"No; I can't read," replied he roguishly.

"Let your wife read it to you, then."

"My wife?"

"Certainly; she knows how to read, I will warrant."

"How do you know I have got a wife?"

"O, well, a fellow as good looking and good natured as you are could
not have resisted till this time."

"Has you, Tom," added the oldest shoemaker.

"I cave in;" and he handed over the dollar, and laid the book upon his
bench.

Bobby looked at the third man with some interest. He had said nothing,
and scarcely heeded the fun which was passing between the little
merchant and his companions. He was apparently absorbed in his
examination of the book. He was a different kind of person from the
others, and Bobby's instinctive knowle