“No, he says he can do it just as well at home.”
“He can. But I think we can stop the bleeding without bothering Uncle Peter any more. I'd like a pair of scissors,” he said, meaning to cut some papers for powders.
“They won't do no good. I've tried 'em.”
“What do you think I want with them?”
“I 'lowed you wanted to put 'em under the piller. That'll cure nose-bleed lots of times. Maybe you don't believe it, but it's so.”
“Can Uncle Peter cure other things?” asked Mary.
“He can that. My nephew had the chills last year and shook and shook. At last he went to Uncle Peter an' he cured him.”
“He shot 'em,” said Mr. Haig.
“Yes, he told him to take sixteen shot every mornin' for sixteen days and by the time he got through he didn't shake a bit.”
“By jings! he was so heavy he couldn't,” said Mr. Haig, and in the laugh that followed the doctor and his wife rose to go. A neighboring woman with a baby in her arms had come in and seated herself near the door. As he passed out the doctor stopped to inquire, “How's that sore breast? You haven't been back again.”