"I did not. She refused to give it to me. Actually refused! She—she had that dreadful fried breakfast on the back of the stove and told me to sit right down and eat it—like a good fellow. A good fellow—to me!—as if I was a dog! A dog, by Jove! I explained—in spite of my just resentment I endeavored to reason with her. I told her the doctor had forbidden my eatin' a heavy breakfast. I said that my nerves were shattered and so on. And what do you suppose she said to me? She had the brazen effrontery to tell me that I had no nerves. Nerves were 'errors,' whatever that means. All I had to do was to think that—that those fried outrages were all right and they would be. And when I—you'll admit I had a good reason—when I lost my temper and expressed my opinion of her she began to sing. And she kept on singin'. Such singin'! Good heavens! Horrible!"
"Then you ain't had any breakfast?"
"I have not. But I will have it! I will! You mark my words, I—"
He stopped. "The Sweet By and By" had swung into the lower entry and was movin' up the stairs. I expected to see Cousin Lemuel beat for snug harbor, but no sir-ee! he stayed right where he was, settin' up in his chair as straight as a ramrod. Aunt Lucindy's treatment might not be workin' exactly as she intended, the patient's nerves might not be any better, but his nerve was improvin' fast.
In she swept, smilin' like clockwork, as smooth and as serene as a flat calm in Ostable cove. She paid no attention to the way the little man glared at her, but turned to me and says: "Well, Cap'n," she says, "have you cherished the thought I gave you?"
"Um-hm," says I, "I've put it on ice. I cal'late 'twill keep over Sunday."
"I've thought up one for you, Lemuel, you poor thing," she says, turnin' to the insect chaser. "It is—"
"Woman," broke in Cousin Lemuel, "I'll trouble you not to call me a poor thing. Where is my tea and toast?"
She smiled at him, condescendin' but pitiful, same as a cow might smile at a kitten that tried to scratch it—if a cow could smile.
"Your breakfast is on the stove, all nice and warm," she says. "You don't really want tea and toast; you only think so. Cap'n Snow will tell you how nice those fried potatoes are, and the codfish and—"