'I suppose the doctor will bring along a stomach pump,' said Henry,
trying to soothe me.

'Oh, must he?' moaned The Kid (ignored).

'Get 'er to put 'er finger down 'er throat,' suggested Elizabeth
brightly; 'that'll work it.'

It was the last straw. The Kid, though still dutiful, was utterly
outraged. 'No, no, I won't,' she cried in open rebellion.

She looked unhappy. The soap and water had evidently met the allied
forces of ipecac. and salt, and a fierce battle was, no doubt, in
progress in her interior at the moment. 'I won't,' she repeated
desperately.

'Do try, darling,' implored Henry, 'and I'll give you a whole shilling.'

'No, no, _no_. I don't want any shillings.' Judging by her expression
the soap must have commenced an encircling movement, and the salt and
ipecac. were hurrying up reserves. 'I won't put my finger down my
throat.'

'What are we to do?' I said, wringing my hands. 'I never knew her to
be so obstinate. Why, oh, why doesn't the doctor come? The child is
beginning to look so strange already.'

'Well, wot I'd do if I was you,' suggested Elizabeth, 'is to begin the
doses all over again----'

'Good,' said Henry. 'Firstly the ipecac.----'

'Oh, must I?' interrupted The Kid.

To my intense relief Marion dashed in at that moment. 'Have you given
her an emetic?' she demanded breathlessly.

Elizabeth, Henry and I gathered round her with the necessary
information.

'She has had several. Ipecac.----'

'Twice.'

'Salt and water----'

'A cupful.'

'Warm soap and water----'

'One glass.'

'And,' I concluded, now in tears, 'she won't be sick--simply _won't_!'

'I do want to, _auntie_,' explained The Kid, her child's sense of
justice receiving mortal blows, 'but I can't _be_----'

Marion stood and gazed at her in awe. 'It's wonderful,' she murmured,
'amazing! I think, perhaps, _The Lancet_ would be interested in a
letter on the subject.'

'But what did the doctor say?' broke in Henry. 'Is he coming?'

'No,' said Marion, 'he----'

'Why not?' I asked feverishly.

'Because he said it was all right directly he tasted the contents of
the bottle. But to make quite sure he 'phoned to your chemist, who, it
appears, put your name on the bottle instead of The Kid's. He was
awfully sorry and apologetic.'

'Sorry!' I echoed, 'apologetic! Why, the man's a monster. To think of
all I've suffered through his carelessness.' I sank down on a chair.
'I'm quite overwrought.'