“It certainly worked with me, that remedy,” put in Feargus. “And I was about to pass when you took my case. I ought to remember it because it was our first meeting, Mr. Kalisch.”
“So it was.”
“You really have a remedy for seasickness?” demanded Billie again.
“It has worked in most cases,” said Mr. Kalisch. “I should be glad to give it to your friends if they are willing.”
“I’m sure they would be very foolish not to be,” exclaimed Billie. “I will run and see and let you know in five minutes.”
Billie found a deplorable state of affairs in the two staterooms. Elinor had completely succumbed to the miseries of the disease and lay in her berth as white and still as a corpse. Miss Campbell was groaning to herself, and Mary was weeping silently. As for Nancy in the next room, she was too miserable to reply to her friend’s inquiry and buried her face in her pillow.
“Cousin Helen,” said Billie, “I’m going to bring a doctor in to see you who has an infallible cure for seasickness. Will you see him?”
There was only a moan for answer. The ship was filled with unhappy sounds; Billie felt almost ashamed to be so strong in the midst of all of this misery.
“It sounds very much like the Inferno,” she thought as she hurried downstairs to the dining-room again.
“Mr. Kalisch, it would be very kind of you to come and see my friends,” she said. “They are all of them very ill.”