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(Enter, L., a rusty-looking individual, with a tin trunk under his arm.)

John Jenkins. Are you the editor of the “Post”?

Ed. I am.

J. J. Then, sir, allow me to present you with a box of my famous salve (hands box to him).

Ed. Thank you.

J. J. Perhaps you’d be willing to insert this little paragraph about it. I wrote it off to save you trouble (hands paper to editor).

Ed. (reading aloud). We have received from Dr. Jenkins a box of his Magnetic Salve, which is warranted to cure every description of cut or bruise in an incredibly short space of time. We know a boy who accidentally cut off one of his fingers. His mother being absent, he bethought himself of Dr. Jenkins’s salve, which she had bought the day previous. He applied it to the injured finger, and before night there was not even a scar to indicate where the wound had been.

Ed. (looking up). You want me to insert this?

J. J. (in an insinuating tone). Yes, sir.

Ed. But I don’t know the boy referred to.

J. J. My dear sir, aint you rather new in the business?