They never overtook me. My pace was too hot for that.
Anyhow, I doubt if I would have paid any attention to them. I had
my instructions and was selling according to orders. Business was
good, getting better every day. The firm wrote to my customers,
but they merely sent back copies of the iron-clad contract. They
had seen my instructions, and they knew it was all right. It was
not until I brought up, my last penny gone, in Rochester, near the
Ohio line, that the firm established communication with me at last.
Their instructions were brief: to come home and sell no more tables.
They sent $10, but gave me no clew to their curious decision, with
things booming as they were.
Being in the field I considered that, whatever was up, I had
a better command of the situation. I decided that I would not go
home,--at least not until I had sold a few more extension tables
while they were in such demand. I made that $10 go farther than $10
ever went before. It took me a little way into Ohio, to Youngstown,
and then back to Pennsylvania, to Warren and Meadville and Corry.
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