the doors, and finally the chambermaid's clatter, and her occasional
turn on the knob, as a broad invitation to get up and out of the way
that she may do her work.

I started out in the morning at B----, determined to do all in my
power to make a good showing for myself. There is but one gun-store,
but all the hardware dealers handled something in my line. It is a
sleepy town. Time was when it had a large trade in the surrounding
States, but of late it sells near home. A town of its size might and
ought to support two or three good gun stores. I called on Bell & Co.,
gave the man who looked most like the buyer my card, and proceeded to
say a word or two about something else than business.

"We have had some goods from your house," said Mr. Bell, "but we never
get our orders filled. There's always something left out. I don't like
it. When I order an article I want it."

Our house had always made a specialty of filling orders complete, and
I was surprised at what I had just heard. I remarked this, and that I
was the stock-clerk, and that I feared he was visiting on our heads
the sins of others.

"No, I am not," said he. "In the last bill we sent you there were two
items left out;" and he found the bill and showed me our own
memorandum regarding the items. To be sure they were goods we never
kept in stock and never intended to. I explained this, but he took the
ground that, in the first place, a house should keep everything in its
line, and if they happened to be out of anything should buy it.

I did not attempt to contradict him, for it's a mighty poor time for