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Of course, when they picked him up he hadn't a notion he possessed any such gift. Well here, as you might say, was a pretty kettle of fish for Aunt Barbree. Here not only was a loving husband killed, and a sister-in-law, but at one stroke two out of the three healthy lives on which the whole lease of Merry-Garden depended.

Aunt Barbree was beginning to wonder why the cure worked so slow in the case of fresh fruit. "Heaven is my witness, I have!" said Aunt Barbree. "There's a complete change coming over my constitution," said Nandy, pensive-like. "I feel it hardening every day: and as for my skull, why talk about Brazil nuts! I believe I could crack cherry-stones with it."

"You baint goin' to tell me," said Susannah, "that you act'lly mean to take and trapse to Plymouth in all this heat?" "I do," said Barbree. "Get me my shawl and bonnet." "What, on a Saturday afternoon! And me left single-handed to tend the customers!" "Drat the customers!" said Aunt Barbree. "And drat everything, includin' the boy, if you like! But fetch to Plymouth I must and will.

"Who's been driven to desperation?" asked Susannah. "Why, Nandy," answered Aunt Barbree, tears brimming her eyes. "Who elst?" "Piggywig's tail!" said Susannah. "What new yarn has the cheeld been tellin'?" "He's my own nephew, and a Furnace upon his mother's side," said Aunt Barbree; "and I'll trouble you to speak more respectful of your employer's kin.

Mud is the cure, ma'am mud-bathing and constant doses of sulphur-water, varied with a plenty of exercise to open the pores of the skin." "Sulphur-water?" Aunt Barbree had used it now and then upon her fruit-trees, to keep away mildew. She doubted Nandy's taking kindly to it. "He's easier led, sir, than driven," she said. "My good woman," said the doctor, "you leave him to me.

I'll take up this case for nothing but the honour and glory of it. He shall board and lodge here and live like a fighting-cock, and not a penny-piece to pay. As for curing him if it'll give you any confidence, look at my complexion, ma'am. What d'ye think of it?" "Handsome, sure 'nough," said Aunt Barbree. "Satin, ma'am complete satin!" said the doctor. "And I'm like that all over."

The doctor made Nandy take off his shirt. "Why," said he, enthusiastic-like, "the boy's a perfect treasure!" "You think so?" said Aunt Barbree, a bit dubious, not quite catching his drift. "A case, ma'am, like this wouldn't yield to fresh fruit, not in ten years. It's throwing away your time.

The worst trial of all was that, somehow or other, Nandy got to know his value and the reason of it, and from that day he gave Aunt Barbree no peace. He wouldn't go to school; study gave him a headache.

On the slope above the cherry-orchards, if you moor your boat at the tumble-down quay and climb by half-obliterated pathways, you will come to a hedge of brambles, and to a broken gate with a well beside it; and beyond the gate to an orchard of apple-trees, planted in times when, regularly as Christmas Eve came round, Aunt Barbree Furnace, her maid Susannah, and the boy Nandy, would mount by this same path with a bowl of cider, and anoint the stems one by one, reciting

Clatworthy's advice; "for I do believe," she wound up, "the boy is sinking into a very low state of despondency." "And so should I be despondent," said the doctor, eyeing Nandy, "if I had that number of pimples and didn't know a sure way to cure them." "Fresh fruit don't seem to do no good," said Aunt Barbree, "though I've heard it confidently recommended."