idea, but the books interested him greatly. The set was designed for self-improvement, and the price was thirty dollars.
"Every time you sell a young man or woman a set of these, you do them good," he suggested to the manager, with a glow upon his face.
"Exactly," assented that suave gentleman, sighting two prime essentials of a salesman, faith in his article and a missionary enthusiasm. "You could make a hundred a week selling 'em!"
One hundred dollars a week! John looked his incredulity.
"What were you doing before?" inquired the manager.
"Acting!"
"Selling books is like acting," mused the manager. "If you are a good actor, you could make a hundred a week easy."
Because John needed one hundred dollars a week, and reflected that the experience would be good training for that higher form of salesmanship upon which he meant to embark, he took his prospectus and started out. The first week his commissions were $7.50. He had made one sale. But he needed one hundred dollars worse the second week, and set forth with greater determination. That week he made two sales. "I've almost got it," he assured himself, gritting his teeth desperately. And the third week he did get it. His commissions for six days were $74.50, for the next week $112.50, for the fifth week $145.00. John Hampstead was successfully launched upon an enterprise that would care for all his money wants.
And the work itself was happy work. It was no foot-in-the-door, house-to-house campaign on which he had entered. Ways were found of gathering lists of persons likely to be interested. He called upon these people like
