“Now, Bobby, I understand your plan,” said Mr. Bayard, when they reached the store; “but the details must be settled.  Where do you intend to go?”

“I hardly know, sir.  I suppose I can sell books almost any where.”

“Very true; but in some places much better than in others.”

Mr. Bayard mentioned a large town about eighteen miles from the city, in which he thought a good trade might be carried on, and Bobby at once decided to adopt the suggestion.

“You can make this place your head quarters for the week; if books do not sell well right in the village, why, you can go out a little way, for the country in the vicinity is peopled by intelligent farmers, who are well off, and who can afford to buy books.”

“I was thinking of that; but what shall I take with me, sir?”

“There is a new book just published, called ‘The Wayfarer,’ which is going to have a tremendous run.  It has been advertised in advance all over the country, so that you will find a ready sale for it.  You will get it there before any one else, and have the market all to yourself.”

“The Wayfarer?  I have heard of it myself.”

“You shall take fifty copies with you, and if you find that you shall want more, write, and I will send them.”

“But I cannot carry fifty copies.”

“You must take the cars to B——­, and have a trunk or box to carry your books in.  I have a stout trunk down cellar which you shall have.”

“I will pay for it, sir.”

“Never mind that, Bobby; and you will want a small valise or carpet bag to carry your books from house to house.  I will lend you one.”

“You are very kind, sir; I did not mean to ask any favors of you except to trust me for the books until my return.”

“All right, Bobby.”

Mr. Bayard called the porter and ordered him to bring up the trunk, in which he directed Mr. Timmins to pack fifty “Wayfarers.”

“Now, how much will these books cost me apiece?” asked Bobby.

“The retail price is one dollar; the wholesale price is one third off; and you shall have them at what they cost me.”

“Sixty-seven cents,” added Bobby.  “That will give me a profit of thirty-three cents on each book.”

“Just so.”

“Perhaps Mr. Timmins will sell me one of those blank books now; for I like to have things down in black and white.”

“I will furnish you with something much better than that;” and Mr. Bayard left the counting room.

In a moment he returned with a handsome pocket memorandum book, which he presented to the little merchant.

“But I don’t like to take it unless you will let me pay for it,” said Bobby, hesitating.

“Never mind it, my young friend.  Now you can sit down at my desk and open your accounts.  I like to see boys methodical, and there is nothing like keeping accounts to make one accurate.  Keep your books posted up, and you will know where you are at any time.”