自从代理人佩吉从约翰叔叔那里骗取一大笔费用之后，便整日琢磨如何再从这个大富翁那里捞取更多的钱。他终于有了一个主意，他带着三本《圣徒们的生活》再次出现在约翰叔叔的面前……On Wednesday afternoon McNutt drove the sad—eyed sorrel mare over to the Wegg farm again.He had been racking his braina for a way to get more money out of the nabob，for the idea had become a veritableb passion with him and now occupied all his thoughts.
That very morning an inspiration had come to him.Among other occupations he had at one time adopted that of a book—agent，and by dint of c persistent energy had sold numerous copies of "Radford's Lives of the Saints"to the surrounding farmers.They had cost him ninety cents a copy and he had sold them at three dollars each，netting a fine profit in return for his labor.The books were printed upon cheap paper，fearfully illustrated with blurred cuts，but the covers were bound in bright red with gold lettering.Through misunderstandings three of these copies had come back to him，the subscribers refusingto accept them；and so thorough had been his canvassingdthat there remained no other available customers for the saintly works.So Peggy had kept them on a shelf in his "office"for several years，and now，when his eye chanced to light upon them，he gave a snort of triumph and pounced upon them eagerly.Mr.Merrick was a newcomer.Without doubt he could be induced to buy a copy of Radford's Lives.
An hour later McNutt was on his mission，the threecopies，which had been carefully dusted，reclining on the buggy seat beside him.Arrived at the Wegg farm，he drove up to the stile and alighted.
Louise was reading in the hammock，and merely glancedat the little man，who solemnly stumped around to the back door with the three red volumes tucked underneath his arm.He had brought them all along to make his errand "look like business.""Where's the nabob？"he asked blind Nora.
"What's that，Mr.McNutt？"she inquired，as if puzzled.She knew his voice，as she did that of nearly everyone with whom she had ever been brought in contact.
"Why，the nabob；the boss；Mr.Merrick."
"Oh.He's in the barn with Tom，I guess."
McNutt entered the barn.Uncle John was seated upon an overturned pail watching Old Hucks oil Joe's harness.The agent approached him with a deferentiala bow.
"Sir，"said he，"you'll 'scuse my comin'agin so soon tobe a—botherin'；but I hev here three copies of Radford's famis wucks on the Lives o'the Saints，in a edishun dee looks—""A what？""A edishun dee looks，which means extry ？ne.It's a great book an'they's all out'n print 'cept these three，which I hain't no doubt many folks would be glad to give their weight in gold fer，an'some over.""Stand out of the light，McNutt."The agent shifted his position."Them books，sir—""Oh，take 'em away.""What！""I don't read novels."McNutt scratched his head，perplexed at the rebuff a.His "dee looks"speech had usually resulted in a sale.An idea ？ashed across his brain—perhaps evolved by the scratching.
"The young lady，sir—"
"Oh，the girls are loaded with books，"growled the nabob.
The agent became desperate.
"But the young lady in the hammick，sir，as I jest now left，says to tell ye she wants one o'these books mighty bad，an'hopes you'll buy it for her eddi？cationing.""Oh；she does，eh？""Mighty bad，sir."Uncle John watched Thomas polish a buckle."Is it a moral work？"he asked.
"Nuthin'could be moraler，sir.All 'bout the lives o'—""How much is it？""Comes pretty high，sir.Three dollars.But it's—""Here.Take your money and get out.You're interrupting me.""Very sorry，sir.Much obleeged，sir.Where'll I leave the book？""Throw it in the mangera."McNutt selected a volume that had a broken corner and laid it carefully on the edge of the oat—bin.Then he put his money in his pocket and turned away.
"Morn'n'to ye，Mr.Merrick."
"Stop a bit，"said Uncle John，suddenly.The agent stopped.
"I believe I paid you ten dollars for Miss Ethel Thompson's services.Is that correct？""Ye—yes，Mr.Merrick."McNutt's heart was in his shoes and he looked guiltily at his accuser，the pale blue eyes bulging fearfully.
"Very well；see that she gets it.""Of course，Mr.Merrick.""And at once.You may go."McNutt stumped from the barn.He felt that a dreadful catastropheb had overtaken him.Scarcely could he restrain the impulse to sob aloud.Ten dollars！—Ten dollars gone to thedogs as the result of his visit to the nabob that morning！Tolose ten dollars in order to gain three was very bad business policy.McNutt re？ected bitterly that he would have been better off had he stayed at home.He ought to have been contented with what he had already made，and the severe manner thenabob had used in addressing him told the agent plainly that he need not expect further pickingsa from this source.
In the midst of his despair the comforting thought that Ethel would surely refuse the money came to sustain him；so he recovered somewhat his former spirits.As he turned the corner of the house he observed Louise still reading in the hammock.
In some ways McNutt was a genius.He did not neglect opportunities.
"Here's my las'chance at these idjits，"he muttered，"an'I'lllearn thet nabob what it costs，to make Marsh McNutt stand out'n his light."Then he hastened over to the hammock.
"'Scuse me，miss，"said he，in his most ingratiatingb voice."Is yer uncle 'round anywhere？""Isn't he in the barn？"asked the girl，looking up.