"Too much woods smoke," gasped poor Simon.
"Ah, I see! Well, let me rub this grease into your chest. You must take two of these pills every half hour until you stop wheezing."
"Haven't any clock," growled Simon.
"How shall I know when to give him the pills, doctor?" asked Dinah.
Grand-daddy scratched his head. He did not wish to lend his watch.
"It takes half an hour to trot from here to Polly-Wog Bridge and back," he decided. "Send a little Skunk to the bridge and give Simon two pills every time the little Skunk gets home. It will keep that little Skunk out of mischief who set the fire.
"One of my ancestors," went on Dr. Whiskers pleasantly, "a great-great-great-grandfather, was a mouse of the wilds, a regular Indian. He told his children, and the story was repeated until it came down to me, that a hornet's nest smoked in a pipe would cure the worst case of asthma that ever was known."
"Haven't any pipe; no hornet's nest," grumbled Simon.
"Neither have I," chuckled Dr. Whiskers. "I threw mine away after the hired man set the barn afire with a spark from his pipe. I'll try to find a hornet's nest and maybe I can borrow a pipe from Daddy Longlegs. Now take these pills and start young Skunk to trotting. Good-day to you, Simon. I hope you'll feel better soon.
"I'll have the kiddies hunt for a hornet's nest," planned Grand-daddy.