But flattery was impotent against Miss Hellner, who by now had seized the arm and was kneading it, pinching it, digging her knuckles into it—and bony knuckles they were too—trying to tear it in half apparently with her thumbs, burrowing and boring, while all the time Aunt Cuckoo ejaculated "Ouch!" or "Ah!" and to one viciously penetrating use of the forefinger as a gimlet "Yi! Yi!"
At last Miss Hellner stopped, and Aunt Cuckoo lay back on the sofa with a sigh, occasionally giving a glance of ineffable tenderness to where her bad arm, as red as a new-born baby, lay upon her breast.
"If your arm is not well after one more treatment...."
"One more treatment," echoed Aunt Cuckoo dutifully, "Yes?"
"You will have to take the oil cure."
"The oil cure?" asked the patient, pleasantly excited at the prospect of a new treatment. "What does that consist of?"
"First you take an ice bath."
"Yes," said Aunt Cuckoo, "our bathroom is very nice."
"Ice bath," repeated the nurse severely.
"Oh, I see," said Aunt Cuckoo with less enthusiasm. "You mean a cold bath."