Jeff sniffed hungrily. A delicious incense, the mingled odors of roast chicken and fresh-baked bread, blessed his nostrils. He said slowly and with dignity, "I am not a peddler, ma'am. I represent Tarrant--" "Now, look! I just broke my parin' knife an' I got no time--" "Ah!" Like magic, and seemingly without visible motion, the pack opened. From it Jeff took a paring knife with a gleaming blade and a shiny black handle. "Only seventeen cents, ma'am. Blade of finest steel and hilt of genuine polished wood! Holds its edges and its temper, too! A lifetime knife!" She looked at the knife, longing in her eyes. When she glanced again at Jeff, she was not so hostile. "Got no money," she admitted. Jeff laughed. "I asked for none! Our conversation became so fascinating that I had no chance to explain that I represent Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd. We have long recognized the needs of people such as yourself, people who prefer the refined quiet of country life to crowds and cities. But country life, as you must know, is not without inconveniences. Our only aim is to bring to the doors of people such as yourself whatever may not be available." Her eyes were suspicious. "You mean you're givin' me this knife?" "Not at all, ma'am. Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., is always willing to barter. _Umm!_ Is that roast chicken I smell?" "I ain't tradin' you no roast chicken for no little knife!" "Surely one small knife will not fill your needs?" "Well, I could use some cinnamon sticks." With the same magical ease, Jeff opened his pack and gracefully offered a small parcel of cinnamon sticks. "Cinnamon from Ceylon," he said, at the same time wondering if he did not have cinnamon and tea confused. He went on, "The world's only pure cinnamon, made available to Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., through special sources." "My," she was impressed. "What else do you have?" Jeff said, in the same tone that a department store manager would have used, "What do you wish, ma'am?" She eyed the pack. "You wouldn't have some real nice gingham?" "Certainly." Again it was as though the pack opened itself, and from it Jeff took a partial bolt of red-checked gingham. Her eyes softened. "It's real pretty." "Feel its texture," Jeff urged. "Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., stocks only the best. Shall we say about six yards?" She said doubtfully, "Best make it three." Jeff whipped a pair of scissors from his pack and a folding ruler from his pocket. He measured and cut three yards of gingham. She fondled it dreamily, and compared to the dress she wore, it was elegance itself. Jeff stood expectantly, as though everything in the world were available in his pack. "Anything else?" She eyed the scissors. "Can I have them, too?" Jeff frowned slightly. "I don't know, ma'am. They sell for a dollar and ten cents, and Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd., must show a reasonable return. Now--" She said, as though suddenly remembering, "I've got a dollar."