He turned round, examining himself, and the coat-tails floated gracefully in the breeze.
"Eminently satisfactory," said Mr.Crips.

"And now for business." He cleared his throat, as if about to commence an oration, and set off at a smart pace towards the farm-house whose chimneys peeped over the hill.
A dog barked surlily as Nickie passed up the garden walk, but Nickie knew the character and quality of dogs, no beat better, and he recognised this one as harmless to man.

A woman came to the door, wiping her fat, red arms on a canvas apron.
"A very good day to you, madam," said Mr.Crips, lifting his belltopper with some grace, and bowing slightly.

"I have taken the liberty of calling upon you to bring under your attention my celebrated medicine--Dr.Crips's Healing Mixture, for coughs, colds, consumption indigestion, biliousness and all bronchial complaints." He took a bottle from his bag and shook it invitingly, his voice was respectful and very persuasive, but by no means subservient.

Nickie's voice was his most valuable possession; it had a note so winning, so appealing, that it was only with strong effort that ordinary people could resist it.
"No," said the woman, "we ain't got any o' them complaints." "Headache, earache, toothache, lumbago, Bright's disease ?" said Nickie, suggestively.
"No." The woman shook her head.