“Well, has he got false teeth?” asked the boy.
“Yes,” said Miss Sally more impatiently.
“Well, that's all right, then,” said the boy. “Pa couldn't tell exactly whether it was false teeth or not, the telephone at the post office works so poor, and pa ain't no hand at it, anyhow. He said it sounded like false teeth. So you pa wants you to come right home to Kilo. Mebby he's dying.”
“Dying!” cried Miss Sally, as white as a sheet.
“Yes, mebby he is,” continued the boy. “He ain't right sure, but he says you'd better come right home, so if he IS dying you'll be on hand. And, if he ain't, you can help him hunt for them. He says he went to bed last night, same as always, but he don't recall whether he took out his false set of teeth or left them in, and he ain't sure whether he swallowed them last night, or put them down somewheres and lost them. He says he's got a pain like he swallowed them, but he ain't sure but what it's some of the cooking he's been doing that give him that, and anyway he wants you to come right home.”
“Goodness sakes!” exclaimed Miss Sally, “why don't he go see Doc Weaver?”
The boy shook his head.
“I don't know,” he said. “I guess pa didn't think to ask him that. I'll have to ask him when I git back.”
The departure of Miss Sally made a break in the orderly progress of the picnic, for it not only terminated her part of the day's pleasures, but also cut short her visit in Clarence, and she had to say farewell to all the picnickers before she could go.
Eliph' Hewlitt offered to drive her to Clarence, but she refused him, and arranged to have one of the young boys, who had a faster horse, drive her to Kilo. The whole picnic leaned over the rail fence and watched until she was out of sight, and then went on with the lunch, which was just ready when her summons came.