The wasps fell away in the distance, an angry, buzzing, black cloud; and poor Peggy, more dead than alive, found herself being carried back to the house, all her clothes dripping with the salt water. James was dripping too, and moving his head in a queer way as if his neck hurt him.
CHAPTER III.
THE DOCTOR.
hough it was only ten o’clock in the morning, Peggy was glad enough to be put to bed at once when she got back to the house. Martin and Aunt Euphemia rubbed all her stings with washing-blue and earth, and after that the worst of the pain went out of them. But how Peggy’s head did begin to ache! Then she got sleepy, and had funny dreams, and woke up crying, and couldn’t eat the nice dinner Martin brought up to her. Martin was quite kind too, and tried to get her to eat; but it was no use—she did not want anything. It was very hot too—oh, so hot, Peggy couldn’t lie still, and tumbled about in bed. At last, just when she was so hot that she sat up to see if that would make her cooler, Aunt Euphemia came in, bringing with her a strange man, who laid Peggy down on the pillows again, and took hold of her wrist with one hand, while he held his watch in the other.
“This is the doctor, Peggy,” said Aunt Euphemia in explanation.
“Do the stings hurt you still, Peggy?” he asked, pulling up her sleeves to look at the marks on her arm. But Peggy scarcely knew what hurt her most, her head was so sore, and she felt so sick.
“I am going to make you quite well,” the doctor said; “but you must take something nasty first.”
He looked at Peggy and laughed.
Aunt Euphemia looked very stern. “I will make her take it!” she said.