She had a saucer in one hand and a dishcloth
in the other.
"Yes'm," she said, "here I be." Then, seeing the prone figure upon the
sofa, she exclaimed fervently, "Oh, my Lord of Isrul! Who's that?"
"Now don't stand there swearin' and askin' questions, but do as I tell
you. You go to the--"
"But--but what AILS him? Is he drunk?"
"Drunk? What put such a notion as that in your head? Of course he isn't
drunk."
"He ain't--he ain't dead?"
"Don't be so silly. He's fainted away, that's all. He's tired out and
half sick and half starved, I guess. Here, where are you goin'?"
"I'm a-goin' to fetch some water. They always heave water on fainted
folks."
"Well, this one's had all the water he needs already. The poor thing is
soaked through. You go to the pantry and in the blue soup tureen, the
one we don't use, you'll find a bottle of that cherry rum Cap'n Hallet
gave me three years ago. Bring it right here and bring a tumbler and
spoon with it. After that you see if you can get Doctor Powers on the
telephone and ask him to come right down here as quick as he can. HURRY!
Primmie Cash, if you stop to ask one more question I--I don't know what
I'll do to you. Go ALONG!"
Miss Cash went along, noisily along. Her mistress bent over the wet,
pitiful little figure upon the sofa.
And thus, working by devious ways, did Fate bring about the meeting of
Galusha Cabot Bangs, of the National Institute, Washington, D.
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