se out of it," said Eliph'. "I'll go
out and wait. It's something everybody that has a copy ought to know."

He went out as she said, and found Susan alone on the porch. Mrs.
Smith was at the gate, and he could see her white dress in the evening
darkness. Susan sat with a knitted shawl about her shoulders, for
the evening were already growing chill, so long had Eliph's courtship
lengthened out. He could not have had a better opportunity to speak to
Susan alone, and he warned her of the "piece" T. J. had threatened to
publish in the morning, and of the disgrace and sorrow it would bring
to Miss Sally. The girl listened eagerly and her indignation grew as he
went on, so that he had to veer, and expatiate on the virtues of T. J.
and the right of the modern press to meddle in private affairs when it
wants to.

"And can't anything be done?" asked Susan. "Why don't somebody do
something? I didn't think Thomas was like that."

"He isn't," admitted Eliph' heartily. "But he needs coaxing. If you were
to coax him he might see how wrong he is. I shouldn't wonder if he
would come up here to-night, looking for me, being interested in Jarby's
Encyclopedia and anxious to get a copy at the reduced price of two
dollars off, offered to the press only. If he does, try to move him."

"I will," said Susan. "And if he publishes that piece, I'll never speak
to him again."

Eliph' was still sitting there when T. J. came, and when Susan proposed
a walk down to the corner he knew that it would be all right with T. J.
Jones. A light coming suddenly over his shoulder from the parlor behind
him told him that Miss Sally was ready to receive him, and he took his
hat and went into the house.

Miss Sally was sitting in the rocker with the cross-stitch cover, and
Eliph' took a seat at the opposite side of the center-table and lifted
the morocco bound copy of Jarby's from its place beside the shell box.
The kerosene lamp glowed between them, and he drew closer to the table
and laid the book gently on his knees. Miss Sally sat straight upright
in her chair and looked at the little book agent.

"This book," he said, looking up at her with eyes in which kindness and
business mingled, "although sold, in this handsome binding, for seven
fifty, is worth, to one who understands it, its weight in gold. It
holds a help for every hour and a hint for every minute of the day.
It furnishes wisdom for a lifetime. I read it and study it; for every
difficulty of