As he spoke he took a small bill from the chimney-piece, and began looking at it with a grim smile of contempt on his face.
“Can’t you read?” said Hopper roughly. “Plain enough, isn’t it? ‘The Gilded Pill for every ill.’”
“Yes, but—”
”‘Yes, but,’—I haven’t been well lately. And I’m going to take a few: they say they’re good for nearly everything.”
“Oh, but I wouldn’t do that,” said Dick dubiously.
“Hey? not do it? why not? Speak up: this traffic makes such a noise.”
“Oh, take them if you like,” said Dick, smiling. “They won’t hurt you.”
“How do you know?” cried Hopper testily. “Everybody says they’re good. Hey? How do you know?”
“That’s my secret,” said Dick, laughing.
“Your what? Look here: what do you mean?”