“I'm staying up to intend on you, father,” said the boy.
The father answered with a sigh.
“Don't you asturb yourself, father. I'll intend on you.”
The father's sigh deepened to a moan.
“If you want anything 'aticular, just call me; d'ye see, father?”
And away went the boy like a gleam of light. Presently he came back, leaping like the dawn. He was carrying, insecurely, a jug of poppy-head and camomile, which had been prescribed as a lotion.
“Poppy heads, father! Poppy-heads is good, I can tell ye.”
“Why arn't you in bed, child?” said the father. “You must be tired.”
“No, I'm not tired, father. I was just feeling a bit of tired, and then I took a smell of poppy-heads and away went the tiredness to Jericho. They is good.”
The little white head was glinting off again when the father called it back.