"How much should it have?" she inquired, grimly.
"About six pieces to a spoonful of this," returned her mentor, holding up the atropine.
Unflinchingly Deborah finished her task, and then, hastily replacing the prisoner in its cage, she fastened the little door. Carroll, who had looked on without comment, helped her to rise from the floor, and silently noted the fact that her hands were very cold.
"Come now to the house and rest," he said, with quiet persuasion.
She looked a little surprised. "Surely not. I will stay here and watch. Besides, there is the hemlock;" she nodded towards the little heap of flowers and leaves by the retort. "I will distil that. The fire is ready."
"No, Debby. You're tired. Hark you, the poisons will certainly not show for half an hour, if they do then. It is probable that the muscaria will retard the action of the atropine for a much longer time. Then you must have your full wits about you, for 'twill be the most interesting thing we've done. Come now, as your physician, I insist."
But though Charles Carroll's will was strong, that of Deborah Travis was stronger. He tried persuasion, command, and entreaty, finally becoming angry, and so losing the battle; for, having called her a stubborn hussy, there was nothing for it but to march off alone to the house. The girl saw him go with a sore heart, and then, doggedly determined, returned to her work, the pleasure of it gone for the first time in her life. When, after a while, Sambo strolled thoughtfully in from the fields, she greeted him with positive delight.
The little boy seated himself, Turk-fashion, beside the tripod, to watch the water just beginning to bubble in the body of the retort. It was an occupation which he dearly loved, and in the observation of which he was a privileged mortal, for Deborah allowed but few in her work-room. During the process of distillation she was regarded by Sambo as some one who had risen for the time to supernatural heights. She was quite a different person from the Miss Deb whom he knew ordinarily out-of-doors. On every occasion, however, he had been wont to talk unceasingly either to her or to himself when in her company. To-day she wondered at his silence. His interest in the action of the retort was as great as ever, but every effort to draw him into conversation failed. So, after a time, Deborah, her closest attention demanded by the approaching end of the distillation, when the purest alkaloid would come from her plant, ceased also to speak, and, indeed, almost forgot his presence. The liquid had been filtered, bottled, and set aside for its second vaporizing, when she suddenly recollected that in the morning she had promised to get something for the little negro to eat. It was sufficient cause for his silence.
"Oh, Sambo! Indeed I'm sorry! How hungry you must be! Come, I'll make Chloe give you some of our dinner to-day."
Sambo's big eyes opened wide and he slowly shook his head. "Had somf'n, Miss Debby. D' wan' no mo'."