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Bailey, his eyes fixed upon the occupant of the cricket, said nothing. "We we didn't know you had company, Whit," said Asaph. "We been up to Simmons's and Alpheus said you was thin and peaked and looked sick. Said you bought sass'p'rilla and all kind of truck. He was afraid you had fever and was out of your head, cruisin round in the rain with no umbrella.
Wet a rag with it, don't you, and tie it round your neck?" "Yup. Be sure and use a flannel rag, and red flannel if you've got it; that acts quicker'n the other kinds. Fifteen cent bottle?" "I guess so. Might's well give me some sass'p'rilla, while you're about it; always handy to have in the house. And er say, is that canned soup you've got up on that shelf?"
"Al," he said, "what's good for a cold?" "Why?" asked Mr. Smalley, in true Yankee fashion. "You got one?" "Hey? Oh, yes! Yes, I've got one." By way of proof he coughed until the lamp chimneys rattled on the shelf. "Judas! I should think you had! Well, there's 'Pine Bark Oil' and 'Sassafras Elixir' and two kinds of sass'p'rilla that's good for most everything and Is your throat sore?" "Hey?
"'Twan't the sass'p'rilla," observed the captain, with conviction. "'Twas the 'Arabian Balsam. Ma always cured me with it and there's nothin' finer." "But what in time " began Bailey. Captain Cy glanced at the child and then at the clock. "Don't you think you'd better turn in now, Emmie?" he said hastily, cutting off the remainder of the Bangs query.
"Anyhow," said Alpheus, "he bought sass'p'rilla and 'Arabian Balsam, and I sold him a can of that beef soup you bought three year ago last summer, when Alicia Atkins had the chicken pox." The captain entered the house quietly and tiptoed to the door of the bedroom. Emily was asleep, and the sight of the childish head upon the pillow gave him a start as he peeped in at it.
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