On Wednesday afternoon McNutt drove the sad-eyed sorrel mare over to the
Wegg farm again. He had been racking his brain for a way to get more
money out of the nabob, for the idea had become a veritable passion with
him and now occupied all his thoughts.

That very morning an inspiration had come to him. Among other
occupations he had at one time adopted that of a book-agent, and by dint
of persistent energy had sold numerous copies of "Radford's Lives of the
Saints" to the surrounding farmers. They had cost him ninety cents a
copy and he had sold them at three dollars each, netting a fine profit
in return for his labor. The books were printed upon cheap paper,
fearfully illustrated with blurred cuts, but the covers were bound in
bright red with gold lettering. Through misunderstandings three of these
copies had come back to him, the subscribers refusing to accept them;
and so thorough had been his canvassing that there remained no other
available customers for the saintly works. So Peggy had kept them on a
shelf in his "office" for several years, and now, when his eye chanced
to light upon them, he gave a snort of triumph and pounced upon them
eagerly. Mr. Merrick was a newcomer. Without doubt he could be induced
to buy a copy of Radford's Lives.

An hour later McNutt was on his mission, the three copies, which had
been carefully dusted, reclining on the buggy seat beside him. Arrived
at the Wegg farm, he drove up to the stile and alighted.

Louise was reading in the hammock, and merely glanced at the little man,
who solemnly stumped around to the back door with the three red volumes
tucked underneath his arm. He had brought them all along to make his
errand "look like business."