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and something else, and something else, all down the menu, which was a long one, and exceedingly humorous in the ears of McPacken.

The climax of this long singing was that this fine blade had but fifty cents in his pocket to meet the bill. That was the point McPacken appreciated. It could understand the exquisite humor of a situation such as that. No matter what was coming—pills, plasters, bitter draughts or sweet—McPacken was content to stand and listen, and perhaps buy a little, only to have more music of that diverting kind.

Banjo finished, his last note carried out on appreciative applause. The man in professional attire began to talk. Not of medicine, although it might lead up to medicine in time; but of consequence and power, and the desire in the breasts of people to enjoy and exercise these blessings. It might be something for the breath, thought Louise, or for the hair; it might be something 'for the liver, or something for the teeth. Whatever he was laying his approach to, he was an easy talking man, sure of his words, sure of himself. It was as if he had come into both consequence and power early in life, and was quite accustomed to them now.

The man talked briskly and refreshingly, getting his