“I’ll not have you take it,” said she, firmly, “without knowin’ what it is.”
The doctor-woman struck her arm away. “Leave the woman drink it!” she screamed, now in a gust of passion.
“What’s—this you’re—giving me?” my mother stammered, looking upon the glass in alarm and new disgust.
“’Tis the eyes o’ four lump-fish,” said my sister.
My mother dropped the glass, so that the contents were spilled over the coverlet, and fell back on the pillows, where she lay white and still.
“Out with you!” said my sister to the doctor-woman. “I’ll have no more o’ your cures!”
“Oh, my!” shrilled the woman, dropping into her most biting manner. “She won’t have no more o’ my cures! Oh, dear, she——”
“Out with you!” cried my sister, as she smartly clapped her hands under the woman’s nose. “Out o’ the house with you!”
“Oh, ’tis out with me, is it? Out o’ the house with me! Oh, dear! Out o’ the house with me! I’ll have you t’ know——”
My sister ignored the ponderous fist raised against her. She stamped her small foot, her eyes flashing, the blood flushing her cheeks and brow.