He jerked out of the shop,
came to a stand on the pavement outside, regarded something in the
window with infinite appreciation, stroked his chin, and, as abruptly,
shot sideways into the door again, charging through it as it were behind
an extended hand.
"That must be him," said my mother, catching at her breath.
We came past the window whose contents I was presently to know by heart,
a very ordinary chemist's window except that there was a frictional
electrical machine, an air pump and two or three tripods and retorts
replacing the customary blue, yellow, and red bottles above. There was
a plaster of Paris horse to indicate veterinary medicines among these
breakables, and below were scent packets and diffusers and sponges and
soda-water syphons and such-like things. Only in the middle there was a
rubricated card, very neatly painted by hand, with these words--
Buy Ponderevo's Cough Linctus NOW.
NOW!
WHY?
Twopence Cheaper than in Winter.
You Store apples! why not the Medicine
You are Bound to Need?
in which appeal I was to recognise presently my uncle's distinctive
note.
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