Mrs. Machin gave a delighted smile, "I'll tell you," she said. "Though there's very few I would tell. But I can't live forever, and some time you might want the mixture when I'm dead and gone." In a lowered voice she added with a triumphant grin, "It's a wasps' nest."
"A wasps' nest," he repeatedly blankly. "What do you mean by a wasps' nest?"
"Just what I say, a boiled wasps' nest."
He was somewhat aghast. "Mrs. Machin, was that dose actually made out of a wasps' nest?"
"It was. You get the nest when the wasps are settled down for the winter. You boil it three hours with plenty of sugar and a little rum, and then strain and bottle it. There's nothing in the nature of a cough it won't cure."
"Most remarkable," said Vale, "I'd never heard of such a thing."
"Well, I s'pose there's a few things you haven't heard of." Her tone was tart. "You never heard anything agin wasps' nests, have you?"
"No-o. Were there many wasps in the nest when you boiled it?"
"I don't know. I wasn't directed to look in the nest and I didn't look in. I always follow directions carefully. If more people would follow directions there'd be fewer mistakes made. Better take another sip before you go."
He meekly took another.
"Bah-bah—" said Buckskin, reaching up towards the bottle.
"Bless his heart," said Mrs. Machin, her pale lips relaxing into a smile, "he wants some. And a little taste would do him good, too. Whose pretty boy are you, eh? Whose pretty boy are you?" She shook her head at him and laughed.
