“No, dear.”
“I did,” Penrod insisted plaintively. “You made me take it just before I went to bed.”
“Oh, yes; THAT one. But, dearie,” Mrs. Schofield explained, “I got to thinking about it after I went to bed, and I decided you'd better have another.”
“I don't WANT another.”
“Yes, dearie.”
“Please go 'way and let me sleep.”
“Not till you've taken the little pill, dear.”
“Oh, GOLLY!” Groaning, he propped himself upon an elbow and allowed the pill to pass between his lips. (He would have allowed anything whatever to pass between them, if that passing permitted his return to slumber.) Then, detaining the pill in his mouth, he swallowed half a glass of water, and again was recumbent.
“G'-night, Mamma.”
“Good-night, dearie. Sleep well.”