“No, no. You get a bit drowsy, and that’s about all.”
“Well, I have a mind to try it. I’m sorry, neighbour, but I must ask you to give me fourpence back out of that shilling; I’ll pay yer back to-morrow in the market.”
“Oh, neighbour, it’s all yourn,” said poor Betsy.
“No, it ain’t, not a bit on it. Come into the shop with me, and we’ll get a bottle each of the stuff.”
The two women pushed their way to the front, and soon entered the shop through the swinging glass doors. It was very hot inside, for the place was brilliantly lit with gas, and there was no proper ventilation. A mass of people were standing four deep round the counter, all waiting their turn to be supplied with the wonderful medicine.
The chemist, a pale man, with bright, wonderful keen eyes, was handing bottle after bottle of the comforting stuff across the counter. Many sixpences were passed across to him in return; he dropped them into the open till by his side.
The sudden heat and closeness of the shop, after the outside air, proved too much for Poll. She was weak after her day of suffering, and it suddenly seemed to her that the shop reeled, that the gas came down and blinded her, that the floor rose up to smite her in the face. Her black eyes looked vaguely across the world of confusion in which she found herself, then all consciousness left her.