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He sat peacefully under the cool trail of the great elm all the forenoon, while little Dan'l played with her doll. The child was rather languid after her shock of the day before, and not disposed to run about. Also, she had a great sense of responsibility about the old man. Sarah Dean had privately charged her not to let Uncle Daniel get "overhet."
She continually glanced up at him with loving, anxious, baby eyes. "Be you overhet. Uncle Dan'l?" she would ask. "No, little Dan'l, uncle ain't a mite overhet," the old man would assure her. Now and then little Dan'l left her doll, climbed into the old man's lap, and waved the palm-leaf fan before his face. Old Daniel Wise loved her so that he seemed, to himself, fairly alight with happiness.
But Edwards had a son who was a trifle brash. This son armed himself, and offered show of battle. Dodging from tree to tree he led the impromptu officers such a dance up the mountainside that by the time they had corralled him they were "plumb overhet." In due time, a United States deputy arrived in our midst, bearing a funny-looking hatchet with a pick at one end, which he called a "devil."
The water on his head gave him momentary relief, but more than anything else his love for the child nerved him to effort. "Listen, little Dan'l," he said, and his voice sounded in his own ears like a small voice of a soul thousands of miles away. "You take the umbrella, and you take the fan, and you go real slow, so you don't get overhet, and you tell Mis' Dean, and "
I spoke to Josiah about this and he agreed with me, though he took the occasion to bring in Coney Island, much to my shagrin. "I wish," sez he, "I wish we could stop off somewheres and git a hot dog." "A hot dog?" sez I, consternation showin' in my foretop. "Don't you know that dogs roamin' round loose and overhet in this sultry weather is apt to git mad and bite you?"
"Don't go so fast, little Dan'l, or you'll get overhet, and then what will Mis' Dean say?" he continually repeated. Little Dan'l's thin, pretty face peeped up at him from between the sides of her green sunbonnet. She pointed one dainty finger at a cloud of pale yellow butterflies in the field beside which they were walking. "Want to chase flutterbies," she chirped.
Little Dan'l had a fascinating way of misplacing her consonants in long words. "No; you'll get overhet. You just walk along slow with Uncle Dan'l, and pretty soon we'll come to the pretty brook," said Daniel. "Where the lagon-dries live?" asked little Dan'l, meaning dragon-flies. "Yes," said Daniel. He was conscious, as he spoke, of increasing waves of thready black floating before his eyes.
"You 'most tumbled down. Uncle Dan'l," said she. Her little voice had a surprised and frightened note in it. "Don't you be scared," gasped Daniel; "we have got 'most to the brook; then we'll be all right. Don't you be scared, and you walk real slow and not get overhet." The brook was near, and it was time.
"Every housekeeper has her weak point; I've got mine as much as anybody else," acknowledged Mercy Crane with spirit, "but you never see no moth millers come workin' out o' me in a public place." "Ain't your oven beginning to get overhet?" anxiously inquired Sarah Ellen Dow, who was sitting more in the draught, and could not bear to have any accident happen to the supper. Mrs.
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