“They are the mainstay of the quack and patent medicine business,” declared the Health Master. “Leaving out the Christian Science papers, which, of course, don’t touch this dirty money, the religious press of all denominations, with a few honorable individual exceptions, sells out to any form of medical fraud which has a dollar to spend. Is it strange that the judgment of some of the clergy, who implicitly trust in their sectarian publications, becomes distorted? It’s an even chance that our Great Gray faker’s advertisement is in the religious weekly which lies on Mr. Huddleston’s study-table at this moment.” Grandma Sharpless turned around from her seat in front, where she always ensconced herself so that, as she put it, she could see what was coming in time to jump. “I know it is,” she stated quietly. “For while I was waiting in the parsonage last week I picked up the ‘Church Pillar’ and saw it there.” “Trust Grandma Sharpless’s eyes not to miss anything that comes within their range,” said Dr. Strong. “Well, I missed the sense of that advertisement till just now,” retorted the old lady. “I’ve just remembered about this Graham Gray.” “What about him?” asked the Health Master with eagerness, for Mrs. Sharpless’s memory was as reliable for retaining salient facts as her vision was for discerning them. “Do you know him?” “Only by his works. Last year a traveling doctor of that name stopped over at Greenvale, twenty miles down the river, and gave some of his lectures to Suffering Womanhood, or some such folderol. He got hold of Sally Griffin, niece of our farmer here, while she was visiting there. Sally’s as sound as a pippin, except for an occasional spell of fool-in-the-head, and I guess no school of doctoring ever helps that common ailment much. Well, this Gray got her scared out of her wits with symptoms, and sold her twenty-five dollars’ worth of medicine to cure her of something or other she didn’t have. Cured!” sniffed the lively narrator. “If I hadn’t taken the stuff away from her and locked it up, I expect she’d be in the churchyard by now.” “The whole philosophy of quackery explicated and punctured, by one who knows,” chuckled Dr. Strong. “None of your palaver with me, young man!” returned the brisk old lady, who was devoted to the Health Master, and showed it by a policy of determined opposition of the letter and whole-hearted support of the spirit and deed, in all things. “Probably he knows as much as most of your regular doctors, at that!” “At least he seems to know human nature. That’s the strong point of the charlatan. But have you got any of his medicine left?” “Yes; I think I can lay my hands on what’s left of it. I remember that Sally boohooed like a baby, grown woman that she is, when I took it away from her.” Dr. Strong’s eyebrows went up sharply. “As soon as we get to the house I’ll look it up.”