n that line," Cahews said, with a flush.

"You _might_, Jim," Henley broke in, with a grin, "if you don't git
cured of that complaint you was telling me about just now," and Henley
winked almost imperceptibly to any one not familiar with the tricks of
his face. He bent his head and smiled behind his broad hand. "I'll tell
you, sir," he went on to the salesman, after another sly wink at Cahews,
"none of us here happen to want anything in your line, but there is a
rich old codger across the way--Mr. Silas Welborne--who will trade if
you'll stick to him long enough. He's got dead kin with no sort o' tags
on 'em. You might have to talk to him all the evening, and even follow
him home, but you'll sell him if you understand your business. He's
powerful soft-hearted, for one thing, and if you'll tell him a tale or
two in the eloquent tongue you was rolling off just now he'll place a
dandy order. I'll give you that as a pointer."

"Well, I'm much obliged to you, sir, and thank you kindly," the agent
said, as he closed his book. "I'll look him up. I'm doing a big
business here. Your people don't seem to have had a chance to invest in
my line in no telling how long. Good-day."

"Good-day," Henley echoed, and he endeavored to hide the mischievous
smile that was playing about his mouth. In a chuckling undertone he said
to Wrinkle and Cahews: "I'd give a pretty to see this oily-tongued chap
holding down that crusty old miser. A tombstone is the last thing on
earth that Welborne would want to think about or talk about. I'd love to
be there and see 'em meet."

Cahews laughed and sauntered toward the front, and old Wrinkle sat down
in the chair just vacated and tilted it back against the door-jamb.

"That is a sorter good joke," he said, his small eyes on Henley,
"considering the man you mean it for, but as I stood thar hearin' you
concoct it I couldn't help thinking if you knowed what a joke this
self-same peddler had got off on you you'd not be exactly in the mood
for fun--at least not in the grave-rock line."

"What joke are you talking about?" Henley asked, incredulously, his face
falling into seriousness. "I have never laid eyes on this chap before."

"I reckon not, but you'll know him the next time you see him; I'll be
bound you do, even if you are a mile down the road an' he's round the
bend with his back turned to you. The truth is, I just followed him down
here to see who he'd strike next. He's been to our house, Alf. He