“Think so, do you? Glad of it. Well, now, I'm goin' to leave you in it while I step down street and see about havin' your box sent for. I'll be back in a shake. If anybody comes to the door while I'm gone don't you worry; let 'em go away again.”
He put on his hat and left the house, walking rapidly, his head down and his hands in his pockets. At times he would pause in his walk, whistle, shake his head, and go on once more. Josiah Dimick met him, and his answers to Josiah's questions were so vague and irrelevant that Captain Dimick was puzzled, and later expressed the opinion that “Whit's cookin' must be pretty bad; acted to me as if he had dyspepsy of the brain.”
Captain Cy stopped at Mr. Lumley's residence to leave an order for the delivery of the box. Then he drifted into Simmons's and accosted Alpheus Smalley.
“Al,” he said, “what's good for a cold?”
“Why?” asked Mr. Smalley, in true Yankee fashion. “You got one?”
“Hey? Oh, yes! Yes, I've got one.” By way of proof he coughed until the lamp chimneys rattled on the shelf.
“Judas! I should think you had! Well, there's 'Pine Bark Oil' and 'Sassafras Elixir' and two kinds of sass'p'rilla—that's good for most everything—and—Is your throat sore?”
“Hey? Yes, I guess so.”
“Don't you KNOW? If you've got sore throat there ain't nothin' better'n 'Arabian Balsam.' But what in time are you doin' out in this drizzle with a cold and no umbrella? Do you want to—”
“Never mind my umbrella. I left it in the church entry t'other Sunday and somebody got out afore I did. This 'Arabian Balsam'—seems to me I remember my ma's usin' that on me. Wet a rag with it, don't you, and tie it round your neck?”