You shall have the profits on all you sell." "You are a first rate fellow, Bob; and I only wish I had done as you wanted me to do." "Can't be helped now, and we will do the next best thing," replied Bobby, as he left his companion to enter a house.
Tom did very well, and by the middle of the afternoon they had sold all the books but four.

"The Wayfarer" had been liberally advertised in that vicinity, and the work was in great demand.

Bobby's heart grew lighter as the volumes disappeared from his valise, and already he had begun to picture the scene which would ensue upon his return to the little black house.

How glad his mother would be to see him, and, he dared believe, how happy Annie would be as she listened to the account of his journey in the State of Maine! Wouldn't she be astonished when he told her about the steamboat, about the fog, and about the wild region at the mouth of the beautiful Kennebec! Poor Bobby! the brightest dream often ends in sadness; and a greater trial than any he had been called upon to endure was yet in store for him.
As he walked along, thinking of Riverdale and its loved ones, Tom came out of a grocery store where he had just sold a book.
"Here, Bob, is a ten dollar bill.

I believe I have sold ten books for you," said Tom, after they had walked some distance.