He looked inquiringly at Frank when he entered with Dick.

 

"Who is that boy, Hamlin?" inquired the agent. "Nephew of yours?"

 

"No, sir. It is a young man who has come to Jackson on business."

 

"What kind of business?'

 

"I sell stationery," Frank answered for himself.

 

"Oh, a peddler!" said the agent, contemptuously.

 

"Many of our most successful men began in that way," said Mr. Hamlin, fearing lest Frank's feelings might be hurt.

 

"I never encourage peddlers myself," said Mr. Fairfield, pompously¹.

 

"Then I suppose it will be of no use for me to call at your door," said Frank, who, in place of being mortified², was amused by the agent's arrogance³.

 

"I should say not, unless your back is proof against a broomstick," answered Fairfield, coarsely. "I tell my servant to treat all who call in that way."

 

"I won't put her to the trouble of using it," said Frank, disgusted at the man's ill manners.

 

"That's where you are wise—yes, wise and prudent—young man."

 

"And now, Hamlin," said the agent, "I may as well come to business."

 

"To business!" repeated the farmer, rather surprised, for there was no rent due for a month.

 

"Yes, to business," said Fairfield. "I came to give you notice that after the next payment I shall feel obliged to raise your rent."

 

"Raise my rent!" exclaimed the farmer, in genuine dismay. "I am already paying a considerably⁴ higher rent than I paid to your predecessor⁵."

 

"Can't help it. Old Sampson was a slow-going old fogy. He didn't do his duty by his employer. When I came in, I turned over a new leaf."

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