As Mrs. Smith led the way for Eliph' Hewlitt, the minister left the group of women who had clustered about him, and walked toward her. “Sister Smith,” he said, in his grave, kind way, “Sister Bell tells me you want to carry off our little Susan. You know we must be wise as serpents and gentle as doves I deciding, and”--he laid his hand on her arm--“though I doubt not all will be well, I must think over the matter a while. Welcome, brother,” he added, offering his hand to Eliph' Hewlitt. The little book agent shook it warmly. “'I was a stranger and ye took me in,'” he said glibly. “Fine weather for a picnic.” His eyes glowed. To meet the minister first of all! This was good, indeed. Years of experience had taught him to seek the minister first. To start the round of a small community with the prestige of having sold the minister himself a copy of Jarby's Encyclopedia made success a certainty. He took the oilcloth-covered parcel from beneath his arm, and handed it to the minister gently, lovingly. “Keep it until the picnic is over,” he said. “I'm a book agent. I sell books. THIS is the book I sell. Take it away and hide it, so I can forget it and be happy. Don't let me have it until the picnic is over. PLEASE don't!” He stretched out his arms in freedom, and the minister smiled and led the way toward the place where a buggy cushion had been laid on the grass as his seat of honor. “I will retain the book,” said the minister, with a smile, “although I don't think you can sell the book here. My brethren in Clarence are not readers. I read little myself. We are poor; we have no time to read. Except the Bible, I know of but one book in this entire community. Sister Dawson has a copy of Bunyan's sublime work, 'Pilgrim's Progress.' It was an heirloom. Be seated,” he said, and Eliph' Hewlitt seated himself Turk-fashion, on the sod. The minister took the book carefully on his knees. Even to feel a new book was a pleasure he did not often have, and his fingers itched upon it. In three minutes Eliph' Hewlitt knew the entire story of Mrs. Smith and Susan, so far as it was known to the minister, and he leaned over and tapped with his forefinger the book on the minister's knee. “Open it,” he said. The minister removed the wrapper. “Page 6, Index,” said Eliph' Hewlitt, turning the pages. He ran his finger down the page, and up and down page 7, stopped at a line on page 8, and hastily turned over the pages of the book. At page 974 he laid the book open, and the minister adjusted his spectacles and read where the book agent pointed. Then he pushed his spectacles up on his forehead and looked carefully at the picnickers. He singled out Mrs. Tarbro-Smith, and waved her toward him with his hand. She came and stood before him. The minister wiped his spectacles on his handkerchief, readjusted them on his nose, and bent over the book. “What is your brother's name?” he asked kindly, but with solemnity. “Marriott Nolan Tarbro,” she answered.