"Abner Andrews, of Ash Point, has a new remedy for all kinds of
diseases. For the sum of twenty-five cents he will treat all who come
to him. Office Hours, Saturday afternoon, from 6 o'clock to midnight."
"There, how does that suit ye?" Zeb asked, when he had finished reading.
"It's a master-piece, all right," Abner replied. "But haven't ye made
the fee rather low?"
"Guess it's enough fer the first time. If ye find ye'r rushed ye kin
put up the price."
"Sure. Anyway, I'll make up in numbers, all right. Better have that
terbaccer ready, Zeb, for I'll want it to soothe me nerves when I git
through with the gang."
"Seems to me ye'r partly paid already, Abner. Ye've pocketed the plug I
jist let ye have."
"Well, I declare! Good job ye reminded me, Zeb," and Abner chuckled as
he handed back his neighbor's property.
"I feel so sure of winnin' the bet that I thought I owned that plug.
Now ye mention office hours in that ad. Where am I to git an office?"
"In ye'r own house, of course. That's the right place."
"H'm, I s'pose it is. But, ye see, I'm afraid Tildy an' the gals might
object to havin' a crowd around. Let me have this place, will ye, Zeb?"
"My workshop!"
"Sure. Ye kin sweep it up a bit, an' it'll do fine. Ye won't be usin'
it Saturday night, will ye?"
"Seems to me, Abner, ye'r gittin' me too much into this affair. I don't
want people to think that I've lost me senses, even if you have. But
ye'r welcome to the place fer all the good it'll do ye."
"Thank ye, Zeb. An' ye'll be sure an' send that ad. to _The Wire_,
won't ye? I'm hard up fer cash jist now. I'll pay ye out of what I
make. We'll be pardners, ye see."
Zeb looked at his neighbor in astonishment.
"Well, if you haven't enough gall to start a vinegar factory then I'll
be jiggered," he exclaimed. "Pardners, eh? An' I'm to run the hull
durned shootin'-match!"
"Don't worry, Zeb," Abner replied, as he rase to his feet. "I'll do all
the shootin' that's necessary. But, there, I must git home to dinner.
Then I'll have to look after me laffin'-gas. S'long, Zeb, an' don't
fergit that ad. Ten cents a line, remember, an' twenty cents fer a
header."
*CHAPTER XXVI*
*HEART TROUBLE*
When the advertisement appeared in _The Live Wire_ the next day it did
not attract much attention. People who read it laughed, called Abner a
fool, and then forgot all about it. Most likely it would have ended at
that if the assistant editor of the paper had not seized upon it for a
special editorial the following morning. He was anxious to hit back at
the man who had produced such havoc in the office and given him so much
extra work to do. Since the editor in chief had been unable to attend
to his duties he had been called upon to do the work of two men, and
this was all due to Abner Andrews, who was now posing as a specialist on
all kinds of diseases.