"No. I have no relatives or acquaintances here."
"Well, well," said Mr. McCaffrey commiseratingly, "that's too bad."
After a proper pause he ventured again, while the barber elongated his neck something like a foot over the sidewalk to catch her answer.
"Canvassin', I suppose?"
"What?"
"Peddlin'—a sellin' of ha'r-ile, 'Liniment fer Man and Beast,' 'A Hundred Ch'ice Selections,' 'Hist'ry of the World' for five dollars down?"
Nan kept her face sober with difficulty.
"Oh, no, nothing like that."
"Must say," declared Mr. McCaffrey gallantly, "you don't look like ary book-agent what ever buncoed me."
The barber turned his head so far over his shoulder that he appeared to be performing the impossible feat of looking at the back of his neck as he reported to the restless customer in the chair:
"He ain't makin' no headway at all."
"You say you don't aim to make much of a
