Baby-food for Mary Ann!”
The girl listens for a moment with a faint show of interest, then goes back to her restless tossing.
The Girl (interrupting). Say,—d’ye know I’m done for?
The Lady. Oh no! You’re getting better every day.
The Girl. Oh quit it—I’m goin’! I tell ye. I’ve got a head piece on me, haven’t I? I can tell—they’ve stopped doin’ all them things to me. The doctor just sets down there where you are and looks at me—and say—he’s got gump that doctor. He’s the only one knows I know.
The Lady. You mustn’t talk like that. I’m sure you’re going to get well (girl makes an angry snort). Now try and lie quiet. You mustn’t get excited, you know, it isn’t good for sick people. I’ll go on with the story. You’ll see. Now listen, will you, dear? It’s quite interesting. (Reads.)
“Grocerman, bring a can
Baby-food for Mary Ann!”
he sang loudly over the hedge whenever he caught sight of Marianna’s middy blouse and yellow pigtails. That was yesterday. To-day the malted milk was standing untouched upon the wicker table, and Marianna in the hammock was trying to think up an offensive rhyme for Frank. When she found it, she intended to go around on the other side of the house and shout it as loud as ever she could in the direction of her uncle’s garden. This, it is true, was a tame revenge. What Marianna really wanted to do was to go over and pinch her cousin Frank; but that, unhappily, was out of the question, as Frank had a cold, and she was strictly forbidden to go near anybody with a cold.[3]
The Girl (interrupting). Lady, where d’ you think you’re goin’ to when you kick it? Tell me!