"No, I mean the eech,—the seven-year-eech I reckon this is, by the way it feels."
"I have no idea what to do for such a disease as the itch!" I replied, helplessly.
Philip danced on one foot, clawing his arms now. "'Itch',—listen at that now, boys,—she calls the eech the itch,—don't know no better,—ha! ha!"
"What do people do for it?" I asked.
"Some rubs on lard-and-sulphur; and some axle-grease."
"I'll ask the nurse for medicine,—go along now, please,—don't stand so near me!"
"Get enough for three," was his parting remark, "Taulbee and Hose is beginning to scratch too!"
Yes, get enough for a dozen, he had better say!
Saturday, P. M.
This afternoon bows and spikes (arrows) became violently the fashion. All the boys went up the mountain side to get hickory limbs for bows, and arrowwood for "spikes". But from Geordie alone can be bought the horse-shoe nails (Hosea's before popgun time) which, when hammered flat at the head, shaped around a nail, and then fitted on the end of a spike, make a truly dangerous and desirable weapon. These nails are held at five cents apiece; but when the buyer has no money, as usually happens, the set of marbles received in his Christmas stocking is acceptable. As Keats says, what good are "marvles" anyway, with the ground either snow or slush all the time?