"
Mr. Watson didn't want the book, but he bought it to get rid of the
agent; then, taking it under his arm, he started for the train which
takes him to his office in the city.
Mr. Watson hadn't been gone long before Mrs. Watson came home from a
neighbor's. The book-agent saw her, and went in and persuaded the wife
to buy a copy of the book. She was ignorant of the fact that her husband
had bought the same book in the morning. When Mr. Watson came back in
the evening, he met his wife with a cheery smile as he said, "Well, my
dear, how have you enjoyed yourself to-day? Well, I hope?"
"Oh, yes! had an early caller this morning."
"Ah, and who was she?"
"It wasn't a 'she' at all; it was a gentleman,--a book-agent."
"A what?"
"A book-agent; and to get rid of his importuning I bought his book,--the
'Early Christian Martyrs.' See, here it is," she exclaimed, advancing
toward her husband.
"I don't want to see it," said Watson, frowning terribly.
"Why, husband?" asked his wife.
"Because that rascally book-agent sold me the same book this morning.
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