“Don’t think, any of you, that I’m going to retire and leave you in the lurch.  No.  I’m looking ahead, for you as well as for me.  What’s the newest thing in science?  Foods!  Specific foods, to build up the system.  That’s the big thing of the future here in America.  We’re a tired nation, a nerve-wracked nation, a brain-fagged nation.  Suppose a man could say to the public, ’Get as tired as you like.  Work to your limit.  Play to your limit.  Go the pace.  When you’re worn out, come to us and we’ll repair the waste for a few dollars.  We’ve got a food—­no drugs, no medicines—­that builds up brain and nerve as good as new.  The greatest authorities in the world agree on it.’  Is there any limit to the business that food could do?

“Well, I’ve got it!  And I’ve got the backing for it.  Mr. Belford Couch will tell you of our testimonials.  Tell ’em the whole thing, Bel:  we’re all one family here.”

“I’ve been huntin’ in Europe,” said Certina Charley, rising, in accents of pardonable pride:  “and I’ve got the hottest bunch of signed stuff ever.  You all know how hard it is to get any medical testimonials here.  They’re all afraid, except a few down-and-outers.  Well, there’s none of that in Europe.  They’ll stand for any kind of advertising, so long as it’s published only in the United States—­provided they get their price.  And it ain’t such an awful price either. I got the Emperor’s own physician for one thousand five hundred dollars cash.  And a line of court doctors and swell university professors anywhere from one thousand dollars way down to one hundred.  It’s the biggest testimonial stunt ever pulled.”

“And every mother’s son of ’em,” put in Dr. Surtaine, “staking a high-toned scientific reputation that the one sure, unfailing, reliable upbuilder for brain-workers, nervous folks, tired-out, or broken-down folks of any kind at all is”—­here Dr. Surtaine paused, looked about his entranced audience, and delivered himself of his climax in a voice of thunder: 

“CEREBREAD!”

The word passed from mouth to mouth, in accents of experimentation, admiration, and acceptance.

“Cere, from cerebellum, the brain, and bread the universal food.  I doped it out myself, and as soon as I hit on it I shipped Belford Couch straight to Europe to get the backing.  I wouldn’t take a million for that name, to-day.

“See what you can do with a proposition of that sort!  It hasn’t got any drugs in it, so we won’t have to label it under the law.  It ain’t medical; so the most particular newspaper and magazines won’t kick on the advertising.  Yet, with the copy I’m getting up on it, we can put it over to cure more troubles than Certina ever thought of curing.  Only we won’t use the word ‘cure,’ of course.  All we have to do is to ram it into the public that all its troubles are nervous and brain troubles.  ‘Cerebread’ restores the brain and rebuilds the nerves, and there you are, as good as new.  Is that some plan?  Or isn’t it!”