"

"But nothing worth seeing ever comes into these little towns--and then
we're all so poor, anyway."

The lamp, turned low, was emitting a terrible odor as they entered the
sitting room.

"My goodness! it's almost twelve o'clock. Good night." She held out her
hand.

"Good night," he said, taking it, and giving it a cordial pressure which
she remembered long.

"Good night," she repeated softly, going up the stairs.

Hartley came in a few moments later, and found Bert sitting thoughtfully
by the fire, with his coat and shoes off, evidently in deep abstraction.

"Well, I got away at last--much as ever. Great scheme, that sociable,
eh? I saw your little girl introducing you right and left."

"Say, Hartley, I wish you'd leave her out of this thing; I don't like
the way you speak of her when----"

"Phew! You don't? Oh, all right! I'm mum as an oyster--only keep it up!
Get in all the church sociables, and all that; there's nothing like it."

Hartley soon had canvassers out along the country roads, and was working
every house in town. The campaign promised to lengthen into a month,
perhaps longer. Albert especially became a great favorite. Every one
declared there had never been such book agents in the town: such
gentlemanly fellows, they didn't press anybody to buy; they didn't rush
about and "poke their noses where they were not wanted." They were more
like merchants with books to sell. The only person who failed to see the
attraction in them was Ed Brann, who was popularly supposed to be
engaged to Maud. He grew daily more sullen and repellent, toward Albert
noticeably so.

One evening about six, after coming in from a long walk about town,
Albert entered his room without lighting his lamp, lay down on the bed,
and fell asleep. He had been out late the night before with Maud at a
party, and slumber came almost instantly.

Maud came in shortly, hearing no response to her knock, and after
hanging some towels on the rack went out without seeing the sleeper. In
the sitting room she met Ed Brann. He was a stalwart young man with
curling black hair, and a heavy face at its best, but set and sullen
now. His first words held a menace:

"Say, Maud, I want t' talk to you."

"Very well; what is it, Ed?" replied the girl quietly.

"I want to know how often you're going to be out till twelve o'clock
with this book agent?"

Perhaps it was the derisive inflection on "book agent" that woke Albert.
Brann's tone was brut