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Surtaine, "staking a high-toned scientific reputation that the one sure, unfailing, reliable upbuilder for brain-workers, nervous folks, tired-out, or broken-down folks of any kind at all is" here Dr. Surtaine paused, looked about his entranced audience, and delivered himself of his climax in a voice of thunder: "CEREBREAD!"
And now, gentlemen, we're the Cerebread factory from now on. Keep all your help; we'll need 'em. Go on with Certina till we're sold out; but no more advertising on it. And, all of you, from now on, think, dream, and live Cerebread. Meeting's adjourned." The staff filed out, chattering excitedly. "He'll put it over." "You can't beat the Chief." "Is'n't he a wonder!"
"Cerebread; it's a great name to advertise." "No come-back to it, either. Nobody can kick on a food." "It's a sure-enough classy proposition, with those swell European names to it!" "Wish he'd let us in on the stock." Success was in the air.
All we have to do is to ram it into the public that all its troubles are nervous and brain troubles. 'Cerebread' restores the brain and rebuilds the nerves, and there you are, as good as new. Is that some plan? Or isn't it!" There was a ripple of applausive comment. "What's in it?" inquired Lauder, the factory superintendent. "Millions in it, my boy," cried the other jubilantly.
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