‘That ain’t it, and that ain’t it,’ the old woman kept on saying as she pulled bottle after bottle to the light. ‘Ah, I think this is the stuff that cured Daisy last year.
She pulled out the cork with her teeth, and tasted a little of the brown, nauseous-looking mixture, but spat it out immediately on the floor. ‘God save us, that’s the lotion for the sheep’s backs, deadly poison. Don’t you ever touch that, my girl. It’ll take the skin off your tongue in no time.’
‘Am I likely?’ remonstrated Nell seriously; ‘but suppose you had given it to the poor cow by mistake? Why don’t you label it plainly “Poison,” mother, and then there would be no fear of an accident?’
‘Ay, my lass, that’s a good thought. Don’t put it back, Nell, but carry it to your bedroom and put it a-top of the wardrobe. It will be safe enough there, and when we’re a bit less busy you shall write a label for it. It’s arsenic, I believe. I know last year father gave a drop or two by mistake to one of the cats that was bad in its inside, and the poor beast was dead in a few minutes. This is the cows’ mixture,’ said Mrs Llewellyn, pulling out a second bottle from the recesses of the old trunk. ‘Not dissimilar looking, are they? but, Lor’, what a difference in their effects. This is some of the finest stuff we ever had, made from a receipt of farmer Owen’s. Take it down to father at once, Nell, for he’s in a hurry for it. and I’ll fetch the blanket. And don’t forget to put the other a-top of your wardrobe,’ she called out after her daughter.
The poor cow was very bad, and for some hours the whole household was occupied in providing remedies and applying them. When ten o’clock struck, and the animal was pronounced to be out of danger, Nell was regularly tired out, and hardly inclined to sit down to supper with her parents, but the farmer would not hear of her leaving them.
‘Come on, lass,’ he said; ‘I’ve news for you, only this bothering cow put it clean out of my head. Grand news, Nelly. You’ll never guess it, not if you tried for a twelvemonth.’
Nell returned to the table, white and scared looking.
‘News about me, father?’ she said.
‘Well, not about you exactly, but that concerns you all the same. Now, who do you suppose has come to the Hall, and is staying along of Sir Archibald?’
Then she knew he had heard of Lord Ilfracombe’s arrival, and set her teeth, lest she should betray herself.