"Trouble is," said Nort, "your ad isn't interesting. Same thing you've had for ten years, and people have got so used to seeing it they don't read it any more. Now those fellows out in Chicago are succeeding because they know how to advertise. If you keep up with them, you've got to change your methods. Bring your advertising up to date! I say, let's _make_ the people read what the business people of Hempfield have got to say to them." Mr. Graham frowned still more deeply, wondering what all this meant and at just what point Nort would ask him to pay something. Mr. Graham was cynically sure that it would all boil down sooner or later to a question of money, and he had not lived an entire lifetime in Hempfield without being equally sure that no one would get a dime out of him without earning every last cent of it. Nort tore a sheet of wrapping paper from the roll and put it on the counter. "See here now: This is how I'd do it--just for a suggestion." And he began to write on the paper: Some of the Good Things one may smell upon stepping into JOHN G. GRAHAM'S STORE Delicious Coffee from Brazil Molasses from New Orleans Spices from Araby "What's Araby?" asked Mr. Graham. "My spices are all from Boston." "Araby," said Nort, "is where they grow 'em." "Oh!" said Mr. Graham. Cookies from Buffalo Fragrant New Cheese "What else is it that smells?" asked Nort, lifting up his nose and sniffing discriminatively. Mr. Graham also lifted up his nose and sniffed, and then, looking at Nort, solemnly remarked: "Kerosene and codfish." "Wouldn't make the list _too_ long, would you, Mr. Graham?" "S'pose not, s'pose not," said Mr. Graham. When you come into our Store SNIFF--Then BUY. Our prices are the lowest "How's that, now?" exclaimed Nort, stepping back and observing his work with delight. "Try that experiment, Mr. Graham, and then watch the people as they come into the store. Just watch 'em. They will all be sniffing like pointer dogs! You'll _know_ then that they have read your advertisement." A smile broke gradually over Mr. Graham's countenance. Nort's picture touched his slow imagination, and he could actually see old Mrs. Dexter coming in with her basket, sniffing like a pointer dog. Nort had given him something brand new in a humdrum world--and funny. In the country there is always such a consuming and ungratified need of something to laugh at. Any one who can make the country laugh can have his way with it.