"He's a fool. I don't think nothin' o' that doctor's jedgment. I'll have Dr. Sampson over from East Poganuc. Your mother's got the best constitution of any woman in this neighborhood."
"Yes; but she hasn't been well lately, and I've seen it," said Abner.
"That's all croakin'. Don't believe a word on't. Mother's been right along, stiddy as a clock; 'taint nothin' but one o' these 'ere pesky spring colds she's got. She'll be up and 'round by to-morrow or next day. I'll have another doctor, and I'll get her wine and bark, and strengthenin' things, and Nabby shall do the work, and she'll come all right enough."
"I'm sure I hope so," said Abner.
"Hope! what d'ye say hope for? I ain't a goin' to hope nothin' 'bout it. I know so; she's got to git well—ain't no two ways 'bout that."
Yet Zeph hurried home an hour before his usual time and met Nabby at the door.
"Wal, ain't your mother gettin' better?"
There were tears in Nabby's eyes as she answered,
"Oh, dear! she's been a raisin' blood. Doctor says it's from her lungs. Mis' Persis says it's a bad sign. She's very weak—and she looks so pale!"
"They must give her strengthenin' things," said Zeph. "Do they?"