the idlers who are always present at any outdoor proceedings in town,
lent a hand now and then, being rewarded with a few nickels by the
artist.

"Now, Ralph," said Mr. Quigg, after the trunks and other movables had
been taken inside, "do you know what a poster is?"

Without waiting for a reply, he lifted from a chest a pile of gaily
colored placards describing in florid style and with gorgeous
illustrations, the unrivaled perfections of Lemuel Quigg as an artist,
the cheapness of his prices, &c., &c.

"What do you think of these?" asked Quigg holding up one of the
largest. "Won't they take the town?"

"It says you are one of the best artists in the world," said Ralph,
scanning the poster gravely. "Are you?"

"Why of course I am!" Here Mr. Quigg stared at Ralph a moment, then
smiled and winked knowingly. "You have to say those things, or people
will not think anything of you--see?"

"Whether it is so or not?"

"To be sure. You must blow your own horn, my boy, if you want to get
on. Humbug 'em right and left, if you look to see the scads come in
fast."

"I wouldn't lie just to make a little money," said Ralph so earnestly
that the artist broke into a laugh.