“Don’t you see?” said Bob. “He goes up to a house, rings the area bell, pokes a packet of medicine without a direction into the servant’s hand, and walks off. Servant takes it into the dining-parlour; master opens it, and reads the label: ‘Draught to be taken at bedtime⁠—pills as before⁠—lotion as usual⁠— the powder. From Sawyer’s, late Nockemorf’s. Physicians’ prescriptions carefully prepared,’ and all the rest of it. Shows it to his wife⁠— she reads the label; it goes down to the servants⁠— they read the label. Next day, boy calls: ‘Very sorry⁠—his mistake⁠—immense business⁠—great many parcels to deliver⁠— Mr. Sawyer’s compliments⁠—late Nockemorf.’ The name gets known, and that’s the thing, my boy, in the medical way. Bless your heart, old fellow, it’s better than all the advertising in the world. We have got one four-ounce bottle that’s been to half the houses in Bristol, and hasn’t done yet.”