Open main menu

Page:Sketches by Mark Twain.djvu/59

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

I said that while there was life there was hope.

"Hope! Mortimer, you know no more what you are talking about than the child unborn. If you would —. As I live, the directions say give one teaspoonful once an hour! Once an hour! — as if we had a whole year before us to save the child in! Mortimer, please hurry. Give the poor perishing thing a table-spoonful, and try to be quick!"

"Why, my dear, a table-spoonful might —"

"Don't drive me frantic! . . . . There, there, there, my precious, my own; it's nasty bitter stuff, but it's good for Nelly - good for Mother's precious darling; and it will make her well. There, there, there, put the little head on Mamma's breast and go to sleep, and pretty soon - Oh, I know she can't live till morning! Mortimer, a table-spoonful every half hour will —. Oh, the child needs belladona too; I know she does — and aconite. Get them, Mortimer. Now do let me have my way. You know no thing about these things."

We now went to bed, placing the crib close to my wife's pillow. All this turmoil had worn upon me, and within two minutes I was something more than half asleep. Mrs. Me Williams roused me:

"Darling, is that register turned on?"


"I thought as much. Please turn it on at once. This room is cold."

I turned it on, and presently fell asleep again. I was aroused once more: