“When his brain pan is cracked in one place, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, honey, if a bowl leaks anywheres you can’t call it whole, can you?”
“Certainly not.”
“Well, then, no more can’t you call a man’s brain pan sound if it’s cracked ever so little,” argued the old woman.
“But they get over it. You have proved to me that they get over it,” said Drusilla, anxiously.
“Oh yes, they get over it. Bowls and brain pans both may be mended.”
“Nurse, such a monomania is only a temporary affair, like the delirium of fever, is it not? It leaves no after ill effects upon the mind, does it?” she eagerly inquired.
Mammy, who did not quite understand the question, but perceived that her patient was, for some reason or other unknown to her, troubled upon this subject, hastened to soothe her by replying:
“Lors, no, indeed, honey—not the leastest bit in the world. ’Taint nothink, honey, only somethink to laugh at when it’s all over.”