"I should have given her a good bowl of thoroughwort tea, when she went to bed," said her grandmother.
"The kitchen fire isn't out yet; I can steep some thoroughwort now," said Aunt Susy, and she forthwith started. She brewed a great bowl of thoroughwort tea and carried it up to Mehitable. Mehitable's wistful innocent blue eyes stared up out of the pillows at Aunt Susy and the bowl.
"What is it?" she inquired.
"A bowl of nice hot thoroughwort tea. You sit up and drink it right down, like a good little girl."
"I'm not sick, Aunt Susy," Mehitable pleaded, faintly. She hated thoroughwort tea.
"Well, never mind if you're not. Sit right up. It'll do you good."
Aunt Susy's face was full of loving determination. So Mehitable sat up. She drank the thoroughwort tea with convulsive gulps. Once in a while she paused and rolled her eyes piteously over the edge of the bowl.
"Drink it right down," said Aunt Susy.
And she drank it down. There never was a more obedient little girl than Mehitable Lamb. Then she lay back, and Aunt Susy tucked her up, and went down with the empty bowl.
"Did she drink it all?" inquired her grandmother.