As long as these sign-painters were doing missionary work for his cause among the farmers, he decided to drive over to Fairview and see the party leaders in that important town.

So he went back to Dr.Squiers's house and borrowed the Doctor's horse and buggy.
He drove along the turnpike for a time in silence.

Then it struck him that there was a peculiar air of neatness about the places he passed.
The barns and fences all seemed newly painted, and he remembered that he hadn't seen an advertising sign since he left town.
A mile farther on he came upon a gang of the sign painters, who with their huge brushes were rapidly painting the entire length of a weather-worn fence with white paint.
Mr.Hopkins reined in and watched them for a few moments.
"You sign-painters don't seem to be getting any signs started," he observed.
"No," replied one of the men, laughing.

"This is a peculiar job for our firm to tackle.

We've made a contract to paint out every sign in the district." "Paint 'em out!" "Yes, cover them up with new paint, and get rid of them." "But how about the advertisers?
Don't they own the spaces now ?" "They did; but they've all been bought up.