"Much obliged," said Mrs. Perkins sarcastically.
There was silence. The meal was finished. Peggy washed up and tidied the room. Her aunt lay back in her bed, and appeared to be studying a Sunday paper. But suddenly Peggy heard her give a little cry.
"That there pain agen! Oh for! Whatever shall I do? 'Tis a-takin' hold o' my inside, like a lobster's claws!"
"I'll get the gin," said Peggy.
But her aunt would have none of it. She moaned and cried, and then began to talk incoherently.
"'Tis nay 'eart, I know 'tis, and I shall be dead before long. A 'appy heart! Ay, 'tis fine talkin'! Singin'! I mind in Sunday School I could sing the 'eartiest o' them. How does it go?
"'Oh for a 'eart to praise my God,
A 'eart from sin set free.
A 'eart that's sprinkled with the blood
So freely shed for me.'
"What do you say, Peg, about the love o' God? Oh lor! Oh, fetch the doctor, quick, quick!"
A spasm of agony seemed to pass over her.
Peggy rushed from the room.