his
afternoon--"

"You don't think the mice'll git at them pies up in the blue chist, do
ye?" inquired old Mis' Meade, fatuous in a desperate seeking to direct
the talk.

Amarita gave her a passing glance of wonder.

"Why, no," she said. "They couldn't get in to save their little souls.
You see"--she turned again to Elihu--"the agent was here this
afternoon--"

Old Mis' Meade almost groaned, and went away to her bedroom, as if she
could not endure the hearing of the coming contest or to see the slain.

"What agent?" asked Elihu.

He had gone back to his seat by the fire, and Amarita, answering, stood
with her hand upon the devastated table.

"Why, the book agent. He come in a buggy, and he had this set with him."

"Set o' what?"

"Why, set o' books. He's takin' orders for 'em, and this was a set he
brought along under the seat, thinkin' somebody, the minister or
somebody that knew what's what, would buy it right out. There's twelve
volumes, and they're a dollar and eighty-seven a volume, and there's
illustrations, and it's all printed in the clearest type."

She paused, flushed and expectant, and Elihu stared at her.

"A dollar and eighty-seven cents!" he repeated. "You ain't gone and put
your name down for twelve books, a dollar and eighty-seven cents
apiece?"

"Why, no," said Amarita. "Course I ain't. I didn't have the money, and
so I told him. I would, in a minute, if I'd had it."

"Well, what's the packin'-case here for?" inquired Elihu slowly, while
his mind labored.

"Why, he was possessed to leave it. 'You look over the volumes,' he
says, 'and read 'em all you want to, and if you don't feel to subscribe
then, it sha'n't cost you a cent.' And he's comin' along here pretty
soon, and he's goin' to call, and if we don't conclude to keep 'em,
he'll take 'em right back."

"My king!" said Elihu. He looked at her in complete discouragement, and
Amarita returned his gaze with one bespeaking a conviction of her own
innocence. "Don't ye know no better'n that? Take 'em away! All the
takin' away he'll do'll be in a hog's eye. He'll say you bought 'em, and
ain't paid for 'em, and 'long about the first o' the month he'll send in
a bill for twelve books at a dollar and eighty-seven cents apiece."

Amarita made a picture of childlike misery. Her eyes had the piteous
look of coming tears, and she swallowed once or twice before speech was
possible.

"O Elihu," she breathed, "you don't really s'pose that, do y