“I don't see what's the use of so much gaddin', anyway. I don't see as anything comes of it, but just to get a passal of wo'thless fellas afta you that think you'a going to have money. There's such a thing as two sides to everything, and if the favas is goin' to be all on one side I guess there'd betta be a clear undastandin' about it. I think I got a right to a little attention, as well as them that ha'n't done anything; and if I'm goin' to be left alone he'e to die among strangers every time one of my attacks comes on—”
The doctor interposed, “I don't think you're going to have a very bad attack, this time, Mrs. Lander.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, docta! But you can undastand, can't you, how I shall want to have somebody around that can undastand a little English?”
The doctor said, “Oh yes. And Miss Claxon and I can understand a good deal, between us, and we're going to stay, and see how a little morphine behaves with you.”
Mrs. Lander protested, “Oh, I can't bea' mo'phine, docta.”
“Did you ever try it?” he asked, preparing his little instrument to imbibe the solution.
“No; but Mr. Landa did, and it 'most killed him; it made him sick.”
“Well, you're about as sick as you can be, now, Mrs. Lander, and if you don't die of this pin-prick”—he pushed the needle-point under the skin of her massive fore-arm—“I guess you'll live through it.”
She shrieked, but as the pain began to abate, she gathered courage, and broke forth joyfully. “Why, it's beautiful, a'n't it? I declare it wo'ks like a cha'm. Well, I shall always keep mo'phine around after this, and when I feel one of these attacks comin' on—”
“Send for a physician, Mrs. Lander,” said Dr. Welwright, “and he'll know what to do.”