There was a red van in the yard, its side bearing the legend:

T. BRACKETT,

TINWARE AND YANKEE NOTIONS.

LICENSED BY C.C.

A brisk, little, round-faced man sat on the high seat, bolt upright
in the middle of it, carolling lustily. It was "Balm o' Joy" Brackett,
pursuing his humble vocation and using his familiar method of
attracting customers to their doors.

"Shet up that clack!" roared the Cap'n.

"Hillo, hullo, hallah, gallant Captain," chirped Brackett,
imperturbable under the seaman's glare. "I trust that glory floods
your soul and all the world seems gay." And he went on breathlessly:

"May ev'ry hour of your life seem like a pan of Jersey milk, and may
you skim the cream off'm it. Let's be happy, let's be gay, trade with
me when I come your way. Tinware shines like the new-ris' sun, twist,
braid, needles beat by none; here's your values, cent by cent, and
Balm o' Joy lin-i-ment. Trade with--"

"Git out o' this yard!" bawled the Cap'n, in his storm-and-tempest
tones. "You crack-brained, rag-and-bone-land-pirate, git off'm my
premises! I don't want your stuff. I've bought the last cent's wu'th
of you I'll ever buy. Git out!"