for what they order.

I thought the matter of Billwock's account all over by the time I
found his store. It was dimly lighted, but I saw a man and woman at
the rear, and went in. A mussy and dirty looking man came forward to
meet me, but when he had walked a little way he evidently concluded
that I was a drummer, and that I might walk the rest of the way to
him.

"Is this Mr. Billwock?" I asked.

"Yes."

I told him who I was, but he seemed little interested. I started to
ask about his business, but some one sang out my name and said, "Don't
go talking business out there; come back and see the baby."

Blissam, by thunder!

I went back and found him beside Mrs. Billwock, with a young one on
his knee, and as much at home as if he was the uncle of all concerned.
I made up my mind that Blissam couldn't be any more sociable than I
could, and I set out to do my prettiest.

About 9 o'clock we both went out together, and, perhaps naturally,
drifted to the smoking room of his hotel. He was an old hand on the
road, and full of stories of his own and others' experience. I tried
to be a good listener.

"There are some mighty queer men in the trade," said he, as he puffed