“Oh, isn’t it dreadful!” said Felicity, wringing her hands as she walked the kitchen floor. “Oh, why doesn’t the doctor come? I TOLD Dan the bad berries were poison. But surely they can’t kill people ALTOGETHER.”
“Pa’s cousin died of eating something forty years ago,” sobbed Sara Ray.
“Hold your tongue,” said Peter in a fierce whisper. “You oughter have more sense than to say such things to the girls. They don’t want to be any worse scared than they are.”
“But Pa’s cousin DID die,” reiterated Sara.
“My Aunt Jane used to rub whisky on for a pain,” suggested Peter.
“We haven’t any whisky,” said Felicity disapprovingly. “This is a temperance house.”
“But rubbing whisky on the OUTSIDE isn’t any harm,” argued Peter. “It’s only when you take it inside it is bad for you.”
“Well, we haven’t any, anyhow,” said Felicity. “I suppose blueberry wine wouldn’t do in its place?”
Peter did not think blueberry wine would be any good.
It was ten o’clock before Dan began to get better; but from that time he improved rapidly. When the doctor, who had been away from home when Uncle Roger reached Markdale, came at half past ten, he found his patient very weak and white, but free from pain.