"Oh, I'll tell him it's a deadly poison, and that I want it immediately. Good-bye, Prissie dear, I'll soon be back, alive or dead."
"Now cheer up, Miss Doleful," cried Martine, when she returned ten minutes later. "I got it easily enough, and the man hardly seemed surprised, though he put a little poison label on the box."
Priscilla handled the box gingerly.
"There, there," cried Martine, "it won't hurt you! Give it back!" And taking off the cover, she disclosed some innocent looking crystals.
Moistening a few of these, she spread the pasty mass on the spot.
"My, how it stings! My tongue is burning."
"You didn't taste it! I thought you said it was poison?"
"Oh, I got some on my fingers. But I know it won't hurt. But there," scraping the crystals from the spot, "it hasn't done a bit of good."
"Yes, it has done a little. I think the ink is not quite so black. But a brown spot is about as bad as a black one."
"I'll tell you what we ought to do," and Martine read the label on the box.