“I don’t know, docter; but it’s dredful sick,” ses Mary.
“When was it tuck sick, and what is its simptoms?” ses the docter.
All of ’em begun to tell at once, ’til the docter told ’em he could understand ’em better if they’d only talk one at a time, and then Mary told him all about it.
“And how much parrygorrick did you give it?” ses Docter Gaiter.
“Five draps,” ses old Miss Stallins, “I wanted to give it more, but the children was all so skeery.”
“Let me see your parrygorrick,” ses the docter.
He tuck it and smelled it, and tasted it, and then, says he:
“You’re sure you didn’t give it only five draps, Madam?”
“No, no more’n five,” ses Mary, “for I poured it out myself.”
Then the docter looked monstrous wise at the baby, for ’bout a minit, and if you could jest seed the wimmin lookin’ at him. None of us breathed a single breth, and poor Mary looked rite in the docter’s face, as if she wanted to see his very thoughts.