She had lifted herself from the pillow, and she began to cough.
“He'll kill you anyway,” cried 'Manda Grier, in a passion of pity and remorse. She ran across the room to get the medicine which Statira had to take in these paroxysms. “There, there! Take it! I sha'n't say anything more about him.”
“And do you take it all back?” gasped Statira, holding the proffered spoon away.
“Yes, yes! But do take your med'cine, St'ira, 'f you don't want to die where you set.”
“And do you think he'll come?”
“Yes, he'll come.”
“Do you say it just to get me to take the medicine?”
“No, I really do believe he'll come.”
“O 'Manda, 'Manda!” Statira took her medicine, and then wildly flung her arms round 'Manda Grier's neck, and began to sob and to cry there. “Oh, how hard I am with you, Manda! I should think if I was as hard with everybody else, they'd perfectly hate me.”
“You hard!”