Part 37 (1/2)

”Absolutely,” declared Wallingford. ”Why, man, that back curtain of yours is ten per cent. dividends.”

”Then I'll wear it,” agreed the doctor resignedly; ”but I hate to. You know I've honed for years to quit this batting around the country, and just ached to wear short hair and a derby hat like a white man.”

Wallingford looked at the weather-bronzed face and shook his head.

”What a pity that would be!” he declared. ”However, Doc, your wanderings cease from this minute, and your salary begins from to-day.”

”Fine,” breathed the doctor. ”I say, Wallingford, then suppose you order me about three gross of bottles and some fresh labels. I'll get the drugs myself and start in making a supply of the Sciatacata.”

”You just nurse your leg,” advised Wallingford. ”Why, man, when we start manufacturing the Peerless it will be in vats holding a hundred gallons, and will be bottled by machinery that will fill, cork and label a hundred bottles a minute. You're to superintend mixing; that's your job.”

It took many days, days of irksome loafing for the doctor, before they had their final incorporation papers. Immediately they elected themselves as directors, made Quagg president, Wallingford secretary and Albert Blesser treasurer, and voted for an increase of capitalization to one-half million dollars. They gave Quagg his hundred shares and Wallingford his fifty; they voted Quagg his salary and Wallingford his royalty; also they voted Wallingford an honorarium of twenty-five per cent., payable in stock, for disposing of such of the treasury shares as they needed issued, and immediately Wallingford, who had spent the interim in cultivating acquaintances, began to secure investors.

He sold more than mere stock, however. He sold Doctor Quagg's hair and sombrero; he sold glowing word pictures of immense profits, and he sold the success of all other patent medicine companies; he sold his own imposing height and broad chest, his own jovial smile and twinkling eye, his own prosperous grooming and good feeding--and those who bought felt themselves blessed.

First of all, he sold fifty thousand dollars' worth for twenty-five thousand to young Corbin, whereupon Mr. Blesser, as per instructions, resigned from the treasurers.h.i.+p and directorate in favor of Mr.

Corbin. Wallingford got fifteen thousand dollars from Doctor Lazzier, and ten from young Paley, and with fifty thousand dollars in the treasury sent for an advertising man and gave out a hundred-thousand-dollar contract.

”For the first half of this campaign,” he explained to the advertising man, ”I want this one ad spread everywhere: 'Laugh at That Woozy Feeling.' This is to cover the top half of the s.p.a.ce in good, plain, bold letters. In place of leaving the bottom blank for kids to scribble reasons of their own why you should laugh at that woozy feeling, we'll put gray shadow-figures there--grandpa and grandma and pa and ma and Albert and Henry and Susan and Grace and little Willie, all laughing fit to kill. And say, have it a real laugh. Have it the sort of a laugh that'll make anybody that looks at it want to be happy. Of course, later, I want you to cover up the bottom half of that advertis.e.m.e.nt with: 'Use Doctor Quagg's Peerless Sciatacata,' or something like that, but I'll furnish you the copy for that when the time comes. It will be printed right over the laughing faces.”

”It should make a very good ad,” commented the agent with enthusiasm, writing out the instructions Wallingford gave him, and willing to approve of anything for that size contract.

Wallingford went home to his wife, filled with a virtuous glow.

”You know, there's something I like about this straight business, Fannie,” said he. ”It gives a fellow a sort of clean feeling. I'm going to build up a million-dollar business and make everybody concerned in it rich, including myself. Already I've placed one hundred thousand dollars' worth of stock, have fifty thousand dollars cash in the treasury, and fifty-five thousand dollars' worth of stock for myself.”

She looked puzzled.

”I thought you were to get only twenty-five per cent. for selling the stock.”

He chuckled; shoulders, chest and throat, eyes and lips and chin, he chuckled.

”Twenty-five per cent. of the par value,” said he, ”payable in stock at the market price.”

”I don't see the difference,” she protested. ”I'm sure I thought it was to be straight twenty-five per cent., and I'm sure all the members of the company thought so.”

He patiently explained it to her.

”Don't you see, if I sell one hundred thousand dollars' worth of stock, I get the same as twenty-five thousand dollars for it, and with that buy fifty thousand dollars' worth of stock? Of course I get it at the same price as others--fifty per cent.”

”Did they understand you'd get fifty thousand instead of twenty-five thousand?” she asked.

He chuckled again.

”If they didn't they will,” he admitted.

She pondered over that thoughtfully for a while.

”Is that straight business?” she inquired.

”Of course it's straight business or I wouldn't be doing it. It is perfectly legitimate. You just don't understand.”