In short, he had, as we have before said, won a glorious victory, and he congratulated himself accordingly.
But it was of no use to waste time in useless self-glorification, and Bobby turned from the past to the future.

There were forty-nine more books to be sold; so that the future was forty-nine times as big as the past.
He saw a shoemaker's shop ahead of him, and he was debating with himself whether he should enter and offer his books for sale.

It would do no harm, though he had but slight expectations of doing anything.
There were three men at work in the shop--one of them a middle-aged man, the other two young men.

They looked like persons of intelligence, and as soon as Bobby saw them his hopes grew stronger.
"Can I sell you any books to-day ?" asked the little merchant, as he crossed the threshold.
"Well, I don't know; that depends upon how smart you are," replied the eldest of the men.

"It takes a pretty smart fellow to sell anything in this shop." "Then I hope to sell each of you a book," added Bobby, laughing at the badinage of the shoemaker.
Opening his valise he took out three copies of his book, and politely handed one to each of the men.
"It isn't every book pedler that comes along who offers you such a work as that.