four that he would give them the hardest part of
their lives.

They looked at him pityingly.

He then guaranteed to get their pictures in all the papers.

They looked blase.

He began to speak to them about fame and about money, and then about
money and fame--the power to go into any restaurant and cause an instant
cessation of all mastication, or walk into any manager's office and be
entreated to sign, at any price, only sign--sign at once!

They accepted on the spot, and asked when the engagement began. In their
eagerness to be artists they forgot to ask the salary.

H. R. then told them that they must introduce the art of sandwiching to
New York. They must command the union sandwiches.

_Never!_

He explained to them very patiently, for he was dealing with
temperaments, that to make sandwiching an art required the highest form
of histrionic ability. Anybody could look like a gentleman on the stage
or in any of the Fifth Avenue drawing-rooms to which they were obviously
accustomed. But, unmistakably to look like a gentleman between
sandwich-boards would require a combination of Richard Mansfield and
ancient lineage. He asked them kindly to ponder on the lamented Edward
VII. How would the Kaiser act? That is the way he wanted his artists to
act--like royalty. It was the highest art ever discovered. They would be
the cynosure of all eyes on Fifth Avenue, where most eyes belong to
wealthy women who always look for, as well as at, handsome men of
discretion and bona-fide divorce decrees. The artists themselves would
represent Valiquet's, the world's greatest jewelers, and the newspapers
would be told of the enormous salaries paid. Some of the boards would be
of real gold, to be valued at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in
the most conservative of the newspapers. The men also would be paid in
cash, two dollars a day.

"The idea is not to sandwich in the ordinary commercial way, but to give
our press agents the swellest opportunity of the century. Managers have
used real diamonds on the stage. Money buys them. I am using real
gentlemen. Money cannot make them. Valiquet's never does anything
inexpensive, and this is merely the first and most dazzling chapter in
the history of the New Art of Advertising. The newspapers will duly
chronicle the fact that each artist received one thousand dollars a
week--which the artists have turned over to charity, like gentlemen. To
be the Theodore Roosevelts of street adve