“It would be bad for my system,” resumed Dick, “not to be able to get it.”
“My third husband,” continued Mrs. Dodd, disregarding the interruption, “wouldn’t have no bread in the house at all. He et these little straw mattresses, same as you’ve got, so constant that he finally died from the tic doleroo. Will you please pass me them biscuits, Mis’ Carr?”
Mrs. Dodd was obliged to rise and reach past Uncle Israel, who declined to be contaminated by passing the plate, before she attained her desired biscuit.
“Next time, Aunt Belinda,” said Dick, “I’ll throw you one. Suffering Moses, what new dope is that?”
A powerful and peculiarly penetrating odour filled the room. Presently it became evident that Uncle Israel had uncorked a fresh bottle of medicine. Miss St. Clair coughed and hastily excused herself.
“It’s time for me to take my pain-killer,” murmured Uncle Israel, pouring out a tablespoonful of a thick, brown mixture. “This here cured a Congressman in less ’n half a bottle of a gnawin’ pain in his vitals. I ain’t never took none of it yet, but I aim to now.”
The vapour of it had already made the twins cry and brought tears to Mrs. Dodd’s eyes, but Uncle Israel took it clear and smacked his lips over it enjoyably. “It seems to be a searchin’ medicine,” he commented, after an interval of silence. “I don’t misdoubt that it’ll locate that pain that was movin’ up and down my back all night last night.”
Uncle Israel’s wizened old face, with its fringe of white whisker, beamed with the joy of a scientist who has made a new and important discovery. He had a long, hooked nose, and was painfully near-sighted, but refused to wear glasses. Just now he sniffed inquiringly at the open bottle of medicine. “Yes,” he said, nodding his bald head sagely, “I don’t misdoubt this here can locate it.”
“I don’t, either,” said Harlan, grimly, putting his handkerchief to his nose. “Will you excuse me, Dorothy?”
“Certainly.”