MORE WAYS THAN ONE. 149

in her arms. She said she should be glad to look at the
silverin’, and invited Beeb in. Beeb went in, and with trem-
bling hand produced her little specimen bottle, and her large
sale bottles, and her circulars, and her advertisements, and
her fruit-knife, and a brass button that she carried to experi-
ment upon, and tremblingly sang the praises of her wares.

“A new thing,— and a very special agency, — and will
brighten all your silver, and —and—I’ve forgotten what
elsc, but you can see for yourself, ma’am; everything, 1’m
sure, from chimneys to tooth-picks.”

This ghastly effort to be amusing Beeb never renewed. By
the next day she came to the novel conclusion that one could
be an agent and talk sense too. *

“Tame!” said the old lady, who was much interested in
the little bottles. ‘That beats all! Now I can’t afford to
buy one of them myself, but if you "Il hold the baby a minute,
I’ll jest step over and see if Anny Maria won’t take one.
She ’s my darter, Anny Maria, and lives in the next house.
That ’s her baby. Is n’t he cunnin’ ?”

“Yes, very,” said Beeb, meekly, as the umber bag went
out of her lap, and the heavy baby came in, “‘ you— won’t —
be gone very long?”

“Bless you, no! Half a second. You amuse yourself
with the little fellow, and Ill be spry.”

The old lady was not so “ spry”’ as she might have been.
Beeb “amused” herself with Anny Maria’s baby for — by
the clock — a full half-hour.