ried
to dissuade him from calling upon Doctor Lazzier and the other
stock-holders, but Quagg was obdurate. To wind up the evening's
performance he appeared on a prominent street corner about nine
o'clock, in a carriage with the gasolene torch and the life-size
anatomical chart, and began selling the Peerless Sciatacata, calling
upon the names of Wallingford, Lazzier, Corbin and Paley--his
"partners"--as guarantees of his sincerity and standing, and as
sureties of the excellence of the priceless compound.

Wallingford heard about him quickly, for the picturesque Quagg had
become a public joy and all the down-town crowd knew well about him.
Wallingford went down to the corner with the intention of putting a
stop to the exhibition, but, as he looked at the doctor, whose hair
now dropped beneath his sombrero to nearly its old-time length, a new
thought struck him and he went quietly away. The next day Corbin
withdrew from the treasurership and Paley from the directorate, and
every one of the directors who had taken the places of the original
incorporators did likewise. Intimate relationship with the doctor was
productive of too much publicity for peaceful enjoyment.

It was just at this time that the agent of the advertising concern
began to bother Wallingford for "copy" on the last half of his
contract. Wallingford, to placate him, finished paying for the
contract and took the cash discount, but held the agent off two or
three days in the matter of the "copy." He was not quite satisfied
about the wording of the advertisement. He sat up late one night
devising the most concise and striking form in which to present the
merits of Doctor Quagg's Peerless Sciatacata, and in the morning he
went down to the office prepared to mail the result of his labor. He
found upon his desk this note from the restless Doctor Quagg:

Spring's here. I never stayed in one place so long in my
life. You can have my salary and you can have my ten
thousand dollars' worth of stock. I don't want it. My
hair's out good and long again and I've gone back on the
road to sell the Sciatacata.

Yours truly,
QUAGG.

It was the last straw, and the stock-holders' meeting which
Wallingford hastily called wore the greenish pallor peculiar to
landlubbers in their first sea storm.

"We don't need Quagg," Wallingford protested. "Our contract with him
covers any rights he has in