Читать книгу From the Land of the Snow-Pearls: Tales from Puget Sound онлайн

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Demaris was silent. When one has heard the cry of “wolf” a hundred times, one is inclined to be incredulous. Her apathetic look angered her mother.

“What makes you stand there a-starin’ like a dunce? Can’t you help a body? Get the camfire bottle an’ the tincture lobelia an’ the box o’ goose grease! You know’s well’s me what I need when I git a spell. I’m so nervous I feel’s if I c’u’d fly. I got a horrible feelin’ that this’ll be my last spell—an’ yet you stand there a-starin’ ’s if you didn’t care a particle!”

Demaris moved about the room stiffly, as if every muscle in her body were in rebellion. She took from a closet filled with drugs the big camphor bottle with its cutglass stopper, the little bottle labeled “tinc. lobelia,” and the box of goose grease.

She placed a chair at the side of the couch to hold the bottle. “Oh, take that old split-bottom cheer away!” exclaimed her mother. “Everything upsets on it so! Get one from the kitchen—the one that’s got cherries painted on the back of it. What makes you ac’ so? You know what cheer I want. You’d tantalize the soul out of a saint!”