"Ging goo, ging goo,
Hunk-a-tin, hunk-a-tin, hunk-a-tin,
Geegry goo, geegry goo,
All-a-man lissen!"
And the light nickered on the funny pictures of the skeleton and the man with his skin off, and then on Dr. Philemon Pipp with his long black hair and tall silk hat, and on the feathers of the Red Indian, as he danced up and down singing that funny song.
At last something stranger still happened.
The Toyman had just muttered to himself,--
"They're fools, they are, but I guess I ought to stop him."
And just as he said this, Dr. Philemon saw him in the crowd. The Doctor must have felt hurt because the Toyman hadn't bought any of his bottles, for he pointed a finger with a great long nail right at the Toyman and said:
"Yuh sah, aren't yuh willin' to be cuhed?"
Now the Toyman was forever saying funny and surprising things, but he never said anything funnier and more surprising in his life than what he told that patent-medicine man.
"No, thank you, Mr. Steve Jorkins"--that's just what he called him, not Dr. Pipp at all--"that medicine of yours isn't magic. It wouldn't even cure a chicken of the pip."
Then all the men crowded around the Toyman, calling him by his old name.