"What do you do for it?"
"Nary thing on earth but give hit good corn-liquor reg'lar. I seed from the start hit was puny-like, and commenced right off dosting hit generous, four or five times a day, to holp up its stren'th and wake up hit's appetite."
"To holp up hit's stren'th and wake up hit's appetite," echoed the old granny, in her high, cracked voice; "hain't nothing like good corn-liquor, for young or old."
"And hit was hard to get, too, at corn-crapping time," complained Phronie; "but," virtuously, "I alius managed to get some."
"If I were you, I would not give it any more," said Amy. "Doctors nowadays say it is very bad for babies, and stunts their growth and poisons them badly. Suppose you try for a couple of weeks not giving it any."
Phronie and granny looked at her in open-mouthed amazement.
"Phronie," said the old lady at last, "these here quare women has got a sight of book-larning, and if they was to spend their opinions on books, I'd listen at 'em. But what does a passel of old maids, that hain't got a baby to their names, know about babies?"
Phronie's objection was on a different ground. "Hit would look too mean," she said, "for me to drink hit myself and not give none to my child."
"Try leaving it off yourself, and see if your milk won't agree better with the baby," suggested Virginia.
But the old lady spoke authoritatively: "Hain't nothing like liquor for nursing mothers."