United States or Yemen ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
In spite, however, of the kind treatment and the regular administration of Miss Viny's herbs and Mrs. Wiggs's yellowroot, Kate grew weaker day by day. One stormy night when Lovey Mary came home from the factory she found her burning with fever and talking excitedly. Miss Hazy had gotten her up-stairs, and now stood helplessly wringing her hands in the doorway.
"Oh, mickle is the powerful grace that lies In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities; For naught so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give." The following Sunday being decidedly cooler, Lovey Mary was started off to Miss Viny's in quest of yellowroot. She had protested that she was not sick, but Miss Hazy, backed by Mrs. Wiggs, had insisted.
So engrossed were the two in selecting and arranging the flowers that neither thought of the yellowroot or its substitute. Nevertheless, as Lovey Mary tramped briskly back over the railroad-ties with her burden of blossoms, she bore a new thought in her heart which was destined to bring about a surer cure than any of Miss Viny's most efficient herbs.
"Are you Miss Viny?" asked Lovey Mary, glancing at the old-fashioned flower-garden beyond. "Well, I been that fer sixty year'; I ain't heared of no change," answered the old lady. "Miss Hazy sent me after some yellowroot," said Lovey Mary, listlessly. "Who fer?" "Me."
Word Of The Day