"But what was the sugar for?" Mrs. Cane persisted.
"Why, whu—when we made the cider it was swu—swu—sweet; but when we went to du—du—drink it, it was su—su—sour! So we put the shu—shu—sugar in it!"
"When did you make it?" asked his father.
"About tu—tu—two weeks ago—"
"T-w-o w-e-e-k-s!" gasped Mr. Cane as he fell across the bed in a state of total collapse. "Two weeks!—And hot weather at that!"
The telephone rang. Mr. Cane answered.
"Hello!" he called. "That you, doctor?"
"——"
"Stomach pump? No, I guess not. They're about half-full of tepid soapsuds just now, and they seem to be doing very well without any pump at all."