"That's a pity."
"It is a pity, Mr. ——"
"Walton."
"Mr. Walton,—I have called, sir, to ask you to co-operate with me in making it known to the world, so far as your influence extends."
"Is your medicine a liquid?"
"No, sir; it is in the form of pills, twenty-four in a box. Let me show you."
The doctor opened a wooden box, and displayed a collection of very unwholesome-looking brown pills.
"Try one, sir; it won't do you any harm."
"Thank you; I would rather not. I don't like pills. What will they cure?"
"What won't they cure? I've got a list of fifty-nine diseases in my circular, all of which are relieved by Peabody's Panacea. They may cure more; in fact, I've been told of a consumptive patient who was considerably relieved by a single box. You won't try one?"