I held on to the satchel, afraid that he might mash one of the turn-over pies.
"Do allow me. I really tremble to see a person so formed by nature borne down by such a weight," says my fellow-traveller, with great impressiveness. "It isn't to be thought of."
"But—but I don't feel the weight so very much," says I, loosening my grip a trifle.
"But, my dear madam, remember that the life and health of a person like you is of consequence to the whole universe. Remember the siotic nerve."
"The what nerve?" says I.
"Siotic," says he. "That nerve which is so tender in very pious people. They say that the Pope has been suffering agonies with it."
"Dear me," says I, "is it anything mixed up with a heart disease?"
"Not at all; it is a strain upon the great sensitive nerve that runs like a whip-cord from I don't know where down the back of the le—"
Oh! sisters, he almost had that terrible word out, but I gave such a start and blushed so that he turned it right round on his tongue, and says he with great emphasis, "limb."
"Oh!" says I, with a gasp of relief, "now you speak so that a modest New England woman can understand. So there is a nerve!"