bore a look of desertion. Only pausing for a moment, as even a
book-agent might, after many repeated rebuffs, Garrison wended his way
across the street, proceeded slowly up the concrete walk, ascended the
steps, and rang the bell.

There was no result. He rang again, and out of the corner of his eye
beheld the curtain pushed a trifle aside, in the window near at hand,
where someone looked out from this concealment. For the third time he
rang--and at last the door was opened for a distance no more than six
inches wide. The face he saw was old man Robinson's.

The chain on the door was securely fastened, otherwise Garrison would
have pushed his way inside without further ado. He noted this barely
in time to save himself from committing an error.

"Go away!" said old Robinson testily. "No books wanted!"

"I hope you will not refuse a tired old man," said Garrison, in a voice
that seemed trembling with weakness. "The books I have to offer are
quite remarkable indeed.

"Don't want them. Good-day!" said Robinson. He tried to close the
door, but Garrison's foot prevented.

"One of my books is particularly valuable to read to headstrong young
women. If you have a daughter--or any young woman in the house----"

"She can't see anyone--I mean there's no such person here!" snapped
Robinson. "What's the matter with that door?"

"My other book is of the rarest interest," insisted Garrison. "An
account of the breaking of the Butler will--a will drawn up by the most
astute and crafty lawyer in America, yet broken because of its flaws.
A book----"

"Whose will was that?" demanded Robinson, his interest suddenly roused.
"Some lawyer, did you say?" He relaxed his pressure on the door and
fumbled at the chain.

"The will of Benjamin Butler--the famous Benjamin Butler," Garrison
replied. "One of the most remarkable----"

"Come in," commanded old Robinson, who had slipped off the chain. "How
much is the book?"

"I am only taking orders to-day," answered Garrison, stepping briskly
inside and closing the door with his heel. "If you'll take this copy
to the light----"

"Father!" interrupted an angry voice. "Didn't I tell you not to let
anyone enter this house? Get out, you old nuisance! Get out with your
book?"

Garrison looked down the oak-finished hall and saw Theodore coming
angrily toward him.

Alive to the value of the melodramatic, he threw off both his hat and
mustache and squared up in Theodore's