"Oh, mamma!" deprecatingly interjected Dorothy.
"Hold your tongue, miss!" snapped Mrs. Lawton. "You know, as well as I do, I have not had a silk stocking to my leg for years, and I have borne it all, and lived on, some way! But when my own flesh and blood flout me, and coldly deny me a little comfort for my last days, my courage breaks, and sickness supervenes—'er—'er, perhaps I mean intervenes. I—'er—'er, well, anyway—oh, dear heaven! help me, someone! My drops! my drops!" She rolled her head frantically about and called louder and louder for "drops."
Dorothy ran out, but, Mr. Bulkley stopping her in the hall, she took glass and spoon from Lena, and told her to run upstairs for mamma's drops-bottle (Mrs. Lawton smiled as she heard), and then explained that a sudden headache had attacked her mother, but her drops would relieve her and produce sleep.
"Hum! Opium, I should think!" remarked Mr. Bulkley.
"Oh, I hope not!" said Dorothy, and held out her hand for the bottle Lena had brought, and lo! it was empty.
"Did you spill it?" she asked, in a frightened voice.
"Nein! I huf not spilled nottings, my Miss Lady!" said Lena, shortly. "And my bread com' burn uf I don't go back by der kitchen!"
"O—o—h! o—o—h!" groaned Mrs. Lawton. "Where are my drops? What's that? All gone? Not even one dose? Well, I shall die without it! I simply can't bear this pain!"
She shot a meaning glance at Mr. Bulkley, who caught the cue, and exclaimed: "My poor dear friend! If this remedy can be had at Yonkers, and Miss Dorothy will direct me, I will go at once and procure these precious drops!"
A distressed, a harried look came into the girl's face. "Mamma," she said, "Sybil will go and I'll stay by you."