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Updated: May 22, 2025
After registering at the hotel it occurred to me that it would be a good idea to catch any of the dealers that I could that evening and break the ice. It might be worth something to make a good impression before Blissam got around. After getting my bearings well established, I started to call on Billwock.
I started to ask about his business, but some one sang out my name and said, "Don't go talking business out there; come back and see the baby." Blissam, by thunder! I went back and found him beside Mrs. Billwock, with a young one on his knee, and as much at home as if he was the uncle of all concerned.
I then started off to see Billwock, and squeeze some money out of him. Where was he? He was down getting a boat ready to go fishing with Mr. Blissam that afternoon, she said. Confound Blissam! Had Mr. Billwock left any word for me? "Nein; not ein wort." I found where he was and started for him.
A mussy and dirty looking man came forward to meet me, but when he had walked a little way he evidently concluded that I was a drummer, and that I might walk the rest of the way to him. "Is this Mr. Billwock?" I asked. "Yes." I told him who I was, but he seemed little interested.
Billwock was pretty generally known in the gun trade; first for being mighty slow pay, and second for the fact that they had a baby at his shop regularly every year or oftener, and the store was used as nursery and play-ground. Traveling men had to see the last baby and count all the old ones, and according as they praised them did old Billwock buy liberally or not.
The head of the house had said to me, "Don't push goods on Billwock; he owes us enough already. If you squeeze a good payment out of him you can sell him a small bill." This kind of talk is all good enough, so far as it goes; but the poor devil on the road often finds he can't get a cent, neither can he sell any goods.
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