"I know they are," whispered Sam, as he limped out of hearing, "for her son Larry stole them out of our orchard last fall. They're the only kind that keeps over. They're the best that grow, but a trifle too warm just now."
"Good-by, and thank you much," said Yan.
"I-feel-better-already," drawled Sam. "That tired feeling has left me, an' sense tryin' your remedy I have took no other," but added aside, "I wish I could throw up the stuff before it pisens me," and then, with a keen eye to the picturesque effect, he wanted to fling his stick away and bound into the woods.
It was all Yan could do to make him observe some of the decencies and limp a little till out of sight. As it was, the change was quite marked and the genial old witch called loudly on Biddy to see with [139] her own eyes how quickly she had helped young Raften "afther all the dochters in the country hed giv him up."
"Now for Caleb Clark, Esq., Q.C.," said Sam.
"Q.C.?" inquired his friend.
"Some consider it means Queen's Counsel, an' some claims as it stands for Queer Cuss. One or other maybe is right."
"You're stepping wonderfully for a crippled boy the doctors have given up," remarked Yan.
"Yes; that's the proud flesh in me right leg that's doin' the high steppin'. The left one is jest plain laig."
"Let's hide this somewhere till we get back," and Yan held up the bundle of Witch-hazel.