oyster-coloured eyes. "Well, I won't say I will and I won't say I won't. It partly depends on my sister. She's been on her deathbed now for six weeks and seems in no hurry to be off, but when she does go you may see me at Grimstone any day."
"I had hoped you might come right away but, of course, under the circumstances"
"Well, you'll know I'm comin' when you see me. And you take good care of that baby. He's a beauty and no mistake. The image of you, only a little darker in the skin. And I wouldn't worry too much about them fits. Fits is fits, and if they're in you they're bound to come out, the same as boils. He may never have another. I'm more concerned about that cough of yours. It's an awful cough. However did you get it?"
"I was up and down with a toothache night before last. The room was cold. Then yesterday I had it out. Took a chill, somehow, and I couldn't sleep last night."
"Well, well, you have had a time," sympathized Mrs. Machin. "Now, look here, Mr. Vale, I've got something that'll fix that cold of yours up in no time. It cured me of bronchitis and asamay when no doctor living could. It's a mixture that I make up myself and the secret of it was told to me over fifty years ago. You just wait and I'll fetch you a bottle of it."
When she had gone into the house Buckskin rolled his eyes up at Derek with the drollest laughter in them as though to say—"Rum old party, eh?"
"Rather," agreed Derek, "but you'll do well to keep on the right side of her."
When Mrs. Machin had brought the bottle she made him take out the cork and swallow a mouthful of the mixture on the spot. "It's awfully queer," he said tasting. "What is it made from?"
