“Besides, you said ‘Shucks,’ and you owe yourself punishment.”
“Well——” Holly swallowed a spoonful, tried not to shiver, and absolutely succeeded in smiling brightly afterwards.
“Well?” asked Winthrop, anxiously.
“I—I think it has calomel in it,” said Holly.
“I feared it.” He shook his head and warded off the proffered glass. “I am a homœopath.”
“You’re a baby, that’s what you are!” said Holly, tauntingly.
“Ha! No one shall accuse me of cowardice.” He clenched his hands. “Administer it, please.”
Holly moved toward him until her skirt brushed his knees. As she dipped the spoon a faint flush crept into her cheeks. Winthrop saw, and understood.
“No, give it to me,” he said. “I will feed myself. Then, no matter what happens—and I fear the worst!—you will not be implicated.”