Harriet's hue deepened, and there was a faint murmur of vague
reproof from the company.
"H'sh!" said the demonstrator, closing her hands upon the patient's head
with some acrimony. "H'sh!"
And she began to breathe hard once more. Another five minutes elapsed,
and then Mrs. Harriet exclaimed with decision,--
"There! It's gone now, all gone! I've sent it right away. The fire's out
and the drums have stopped beating!"
Exclamations of wonder and joy rose up from the spectators. They were,
however, a trifle premature, for the hysterical girl--who was, it
seemed, a person of considerable determination, despite her feeble
appearance--replied from the footstool,--
"No, it isn't. No they haven't!"
Mrs. Harriet developed a purple shade.
"Nonsense!" she said. "You're cured, love, entirely cured!"
"I'm not," said the girl, beginning to cry. "I feel much worse since you
pressed my head."
There was a burst of remonstrance from the crowd, and Mrs. Harriet,
speaking with the air of an angry martyr, remarked,--
"It's just like the drinking--she fancies she isn't cured when she is,
just the same as she fancied she was drinking when she wasn't.
Pages:
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331