'How much did you give her,
Elizabeth?'
'A teaspoonful, miss, as usual.'
I wrung my hands. 'I take only six drops at a time myself! What are
we to do?'
'One place I was at,' put in Elizabeth, 'the master was rather fond of
a drop too much, an' 'e come 'ome very late one night an' drank spirits
o' salt thinkin' it was something else, so we give 'im stuff to bring
it up agen.'
'Of course,' said Marion, 'that's the very thing.' Long ago, during
the war, she worked in a hospital, so she affects to know something of
medicines. 'Give The Kid an emetic at once. Ipecac. Dose 5 minims.
Repeat, if necessary. Or salt and water. I'll dash off to the
doctor's and ask him what's to be done.' And seizing the bottle she
hurried out.
The Kid was sitting up in bed eating her supper when Elizabeth, Henry
and I burst breathlessly into her room. Her face was shining with
quiet contentment.
'Look, Mama, dear,' she said, 'at the beautiful baked custard Elizabeth
has made for my supper. Wasn't it kind of her?'
I snatched the custard away from her grasp. 'Don't eat another
mouthful,' I panted, 'you're going to have an emetic. You must be sick
at once.'
Mutely questioning inexorable Fate, she raised large, contemplative
eyes to mine. '_Must_ I, Mama? Can't I finish my custard first?'
There is about The Kid's character a stoic philosophy, blended, since
she has known Elizabeth, with a certain fatalism.
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