"You must," said Mrs. Hopkins, firmly.
"I guess I'll get well without," said our hero, feeling that he was in a scrape.
"No, you won't. You're quite unwell. I can see it by your face."
"Can you?" said Sam, beginning to be alarmed about his health.
"You must take this tea," said the lady, firmly.
"I'd rather not."
"That's neither here nor there. The deacon needs you well, so you can go to work, and this will cure you as quick as anything."
"Suppose it doesn't?" said Sam.
"Then I shall bring you up some castor-oil in two hours."
Castor-oil! This was even worse than wormwood-tea, and Sam's heart sank within him.