Now this was much more in keeping with the electrician's preconceived ideas of a book agent's behavior; nevertheless, when he turned and found the young lady standing in the middle of the floor, he felt obliged to be at least decently polite. “Won't you take a chair?” he asked. “Thank you,” said the caller, and took one. The situation was extremely awkward, but Ralph felt that loyalty to Captain Eri forbade his doing anything that might urge the self-possessed Miss Black to prolong her visit, so for a time he said nothing. The young lady looked out of the window and Mr. Hazeltine looked at her. He was more than ever of the opinion that the “middlin'” term should be cut out of her description. He rather liked her appearance, so he decided. He liked the way she wore her hair; so simple an arrangement, but so effective. Also he liked her dress. It was the first tailor-made walking suit he had seen since his arrival in Orham. And worn by a country book agent, of all people. Just then Miss Black turned and caught him intently gazing at her. She colored, apparently with displeasure, and looked out of the window again. Mr. Hazeltine colored also and fidgeted with the book on the table. The situation was confoundedly embarrassing. He felt that he must say something now, so he made the original observation that it had been a pleasant day. To this the young lady agreed, but there was no enthusiasm in her tone. Then Ralph, nervously fishing for another topic, thought of the book in his hand. “I was just reading this,” he said. “I found it quite interesting.” The next moment he realized that he had said what, of all things, was the most impolitic. It was nothing less than a bid for a “canvass,” and he fully expected to be confronted with the necessary order blanks without delay. But, strangely enough, the book lady made no such move. She looked at him, it is true, but with an expression of surprise and what seemed to be amusement on her face. He was certain that her lips twitched as she said calmly: “Did you? I am glad to hear it.” This dispassionate remark was entirely unexpected, and the electrician, as Captain Eri would have said, “lost his bearings” completely. “Yes--er, yes,” he stammered. “Very interesting indeed. I--I suppose you must take a good many orders in the course of a week.” “A good many ORDERS?” “Why, yes. Orders for the books, I mean. The books--the 'Great Naval Lives'--er--these books here.” “I beg your pardon, but who do you think I am?” And it was then that the perception of some tremendous blunder began to seize upon Mr. Hazeltine. He had been red before; now, he felt the redness creeping over his scalp under his hair. “Why, why, Miss Black, I suppose; that is, I--” Just here the door opened and Captain Eri came in. He took off his cap and then, seeing the visitor, remained standing, apparently waiting for an introduction. But the young lady did not keep him waiting long. “Are you Captain Eri Hedge?” she asked.