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Updated: May 15, 2025
Sellyer's voice became so low and ingratiating that I couldn't hear the rest of the sentence. "Oh, really!" said Mrs. Rasselyer. "Well, I think I'll take it then. One ought to see what these talked-of things are about, anyway." She had already begun to button her gloves, and to readjust her feather boa with which she had been knocking the Easter cards off the counter.
"Oh, travel and that sort of thing," said the lady. "Precisely. I think we have here," and he pointed to the counter on the left, "what Mr. Rasselyer wants." He indicated a row of handsome books "Seven Weeks in the Sahara, seven dollars; Six Months in a Waggon, six-fifty net; Afternoons in an Oxcart, two volumes, four-thirty, with twenty off." "I think he has read those," said Mrs. Rasselyer.
"You see, one sometimes gets taken in so: I came in here last week and took two that seemed very nice, and I never noticed till I got home that they were both old books, published, I think, six months ago." "Oh, dear me, Mrs. Rasselyer," said the manager in an apologetic tone, "I'm extremely sorry. Pray let us send for them and exchange them for you."
Then she suddenly remembered something. "Oh, I was forgetting," she said. "Will you send something to the house for Mr. Rasselyer at the same time? He's going down to Virginia for the vacation. You know the kind of thing he likes, do you not?" "Oh, perfectly, madam," said the manager. "Mr. Rasselyer generally reads works of er I think he buys mostly books on er "
Rasselyer, it's the illustrations, actual photographs" he ran the leaves over in his fingers "of actual monkeys, taken with the camera and the paper, you notice in fact, madam, the book costs, the mere manufacture of it, nine dollars and ninety cents of course we make no profit on it. But it's a book we like to handle."
Everybody likes to be taken into the details of technical business; and of course everybody likes to know that a bookseller is losing money. These, I realised, were two axioms in the methods of Mr. Sellyer. So very naturally Mrs. Rasselyer bought Among the Monkeys, and in another moment Mr.
I had hardly read more than the first three chapters when my attention was diverted by a conversation going on in the front of the store. "You're quite sure it's his LATEST?" a fashionably dressed lady was saying to Mr. Sellyer. "Oh, yes, Mrs. Rasselyer," answered the manager. "I assure you this is his very latest. In fact, they only came in yesterday."
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