He glared at Wyeth a second, and then exclaimed doggedly: "I'm not going to marry. I wouldn't marry the best woman in the world." "From what you have told me, it seems that you _did_ marry the worst," laughed the other. "I'll stay single henceforth, and be safe," he growled, and busied himself through some papers. "Stay single, eh! And let the nice lady go without a husband. It's incredible that you can be so regardless!" "I do not care to discuss marrying today," he muttered. "I've something better. It's a business proposition." "Oh, I see. What is it this time? Going to buy the First National Bank or the Southern Railway?" "Oh, you needn't try to kid me. Besides I have not asked you to come in, though if you did, you could pick up some big, quick money, if you were of a mind to be serious." "Oh, well, if it doesn't take more than a million, I might be brought to consider it," Wyeth smiled, with assumed seriousness. "I can see you laffing in your sleeve, so I don't tell you anything, you see!" He ended it angrily, and left the office. It was too good though to keep to himself, so he told Mrs. Lautier, who in turn told it to Wyeth. "Mr. Coleman had me write to Ames today, in regard to some song books, which he says he used to sell lots of," she said, when it was convenient. Wyeth grunted. "He is very much provoked at the way you treat him. He says, if you would go in with him, you and he could both make lots of money; but that you only laugh in your sleeve at everything he proposes," she went on, replete with gossip. "He proposes many things," said Wyeth. She giggled. "He's going out to Liberty Street Baptist Church to sing and sell them Sunday, providing he gets them in time." She typed a few letters, and then said: "He says he would like to go to Effingham with you and sell books, but that you want too much for it. That the book is too high, and you want to make too much. He says the book ought to sell for a dollar, and he should be paid seventy-five cents for selling it." "He wouldn't make a living selling it then," retorted Wyeth, somewhat impatiently. Then he thought of Mrs. King, who fed him most of the time. The following Monday, Wyeth thought he had fallen heir to a fortune. He passed him in the hallway, with head high, and as serious as zero. Mrs. Lautier imparted the reason for it, when Sidney had taken out the letters. "Mr. Coleman had a great day yesterday, so he informed me," she smiled. "He said you should have been out to Liberty Street Baptist Church, and heard him sing and sell song books afterwards. He said you were not a Christian, however, which made it bad." "How many song books did he sell, and what did he receive a copy for them?" "I think six, and he received fifteen cents apiece," she replied. He entered at this moment, his face wreathed in triumphant smiles.