g feet, caused her to turn her head; she fully
expected to meet the gaze of some big dog, but instead a man was close
upon her, dusty, travel-stained, his straw hat pushed back from a
perspiring face and a hand stretched out to detain her.

On one arm he carried a long, uncovered basket in which were arranged
rows and piles of small bottles; a glance at the basket reassured her,
every one knew Crazy Dale, the peddler of essences, cough-drops and quack
medicines.

"It's lonesome walking alone; I've been running to overtake you; I tried
to be in time to catch a ride; but no matter, I will walk with you, if
you will kindly permit."

She looked up into his pleasant countenance; he might have been handsome
years ago.

"Well," she assented, walking on.

"You don't know where I could get a girl to work for me," he asked in a
cracked voice.

"No sir."

"And you don't want a bottle of my celebrated mixture to teach you how to
discern between the true and the false! Rub your head with it every
morning, and you'll never believe a lie."

"I don't now," replied Marjorie, taking very quick steps.

"How do you know you don't?" he asked keeping step with her. "Tell me how
to tell the difference between a lie and the truth!"

"Rub your head with your mixture," she said, laughing.

But he was not disconcerted, he returned in a simple tone.

"Oh, _that's_ my receipt, I want yours. Yours may be better than mine."

"I think it is."

"Tell me, then, quick."

"Don't you want to go into that house and sell something?" she asked,
pointing to the house ahead of them.

"When I get there; and you must wait for me, outside, or I won't go in."

"Don't you know the way yourself?" she evaded.

"I've travelled it ever since the year 1, I ought to know it," he
replied, contemptuously. "But you've got to wait for me."

"Oh, dear," sighed Marjorie, frightened at his insistence; then a quick
thought came to her: "Perhaps they will keep you all night."

"They won't, they always refuse. They don't believe I'm an angel
unawares. That's in the Bible."

"I'd ask them, if I were you," said Marjorie, in a coaxing, tremulous
voice; "they're nice, kind people."

"Well, then, I will," he said, hurrying on.

She lingered, breathing more freely; he would certainly overtake her
again before she could reach the next house and if she did not agree
with everything he proposed he might become angry with her. Oh, dear! how
queerly this day was