f I wouldn't buy the key of salvation! You tell
him so--tell him--oh, well, I suppose I've got to go and get rid of him
myself. I'll be back in a minute, Whitmore."

He ran down the stairs, and as he got near the parlor door, which stood
open, he saw a man sitting on a couch with what seemed to be some framed
water-color pictures on the floor near his feet.

"Ah, ha!" he thought, "I see. A picture agent. I'll soon get rid of
him."

He went in with his best, "Well, what can I do for you?" air, which he,
as well as any man living, knew how to assume; a friendly air enough,
but not encouraging. The gentleman rose and extended his hand.

"How are you, Mr. Clemens?" he said.

Of course this was the usual thing with men who had axes to grind or
goods to sell. Clemens did not extend a very cordial hand. He merely
raised a loose, indifferent hand--a discouraging hand.

"And how is Mrs. Clemens?" asked the uninvited guest.

So this was his game. He would show an interest in the family and
ingratiate himself in that way; he would be asking after the children
next.

"Well--Mrs. Clemens is about as usual--I believe."

"And the children--Miss Susie and little Clara?"

This was a bit startling. He knew their names! Still, that was easy to
find out. He was a smart agent, wonderfully smart. He must be got rid
of.

"The children are well, quite well," and (pointing down at the
pictures)--"We've got plenty like these. We don't want any more. No, we
don't care for any more," skilfully working his visitor toward the door
as he talked.

The man, looking non-plussed--a good deal puzzled--allowed himself to be
talked into the hall and toward the front door. Here he paused a moment:

"Mr. Clemens, will you tell me where Mr. Charles Dudley Warner lives?"

This was the chance! He would work him off on Charlie Warner. Perhaps
Warner needed pictures.

"Oh, certainly, certainly! Right across the yard. I'll show you. There's
a walk right through. You don't need to go around the front way at all.
You'll find him at home, too, I'm pretty sure"; all the time working his
caller out and down the step and in the right direction.

The visitor again extended his hand.

"Please remember me to Mrs. Clemens and the children."

"Oh, certainly, certainly, with pleasure. Good day. Yes, that's the
house Good-by."

On the way back to the billiard-room Mrs. Clemens called to him. She was
ill that day.

"Youth!"

"Yes, Livy." He went in fo