“Just like the soldiers at the war,” said the delighted Lydia.
So every morning she had a visit from the postman, who enjoyed the pictures quite as well as any one else. And they were funny. For once it was Lydia running away from a wolf straight into the open arms of the real Dr. Wolfe, and as he and Lydia were now the best of friends you may be sure they both enjoyed the joke. And again it was Miss Puss pushing Lydia in the doll carriage as a return for past favors, or Lydia in a mad ride on the back of her slave, her hair blown in the wind, while tiny rabbit slaves cheered them on their way.
So the days slipped quickly by, and now Lydia could be carried about the house by Father, her “second slave,” as he sometimes called himself in fun.
“Come, Lyddy Ann,” said he one morning, “you are going to have a long trip to-day, over to Friend Morris’s. She has some medicine for you.”
“Medicine?” said Lydia, making a wry face. “I don’t want any medicine, Father, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” said Mr. Blake, picking her up; “you want this kind. Its name is Maggie.”
“Maggie?” said Lydia, patting the top of Mr. Blake’s head and crushing his hat over one eye. “Maggie Medicine, Maggie Medicine. I never heard of that kind before. Hurry, please, Father, take me quick, so I can see Maggie Medicine.”
[CHAPTER VIII—Maggie Medicine]
Friend Morris and Mrs. Blake sat rocking on the broad veranda as Mr. Blake carried Lydia, waving and blowing kisses, across the road.
“Oh, Mother, what is Maggie Medicine?” called Lydia. “Friend Morris, do you know?”