s hopefully observed that the Bottle was nearly
empty. A certain cheerfulness sprang up. It proved short-lived. The next
time the Old Squire went to the village, Gram sent for two more bottles.
The benevolent smile with which she exhibited the fresh supply to us
that night caused our hearts to sink. To have it the handier, she poured
both bottlefuls into an empty demijohn and put the Spoon beside it in
the cupboard.

Addison, although a pretty good boy in the main, was a crafty one. I
never knew, certainly, whether or not Halstead and Ellen had any
previous knowledge as to the prank Addison played with the Vermifuge,
but I rather think not. There was another large flask-shaped bottle in
the same cupboard, about half full of elderberry wine, old and quite
thick, which Gram had made years before. It was used only "for
sickness," and was always kept on the upper shelf. We knew what it was,
however; by the time we had been there a year, there were not many
bottles in that or any other cupboard which we had not investigated.

The Vermifuge and the old elderberry wine looked not a little alike, and
what Ad must have done--though he never fairly owned up to it--was to
shift the thick, dark liquids from one bottle to the other and restore
the bottles to their usual places in the cupboard. Time went on and I
think that it was Ellen who had next to take a dose from the Bottle. It
was then remarked that she neither shed tears nor made the usual wry
faces. Nor yet did she appear in haste to seize and swallow the draught
of consolatory coffee from the Old Squire's sympathetic hand. "Why,
Nellie girl, you are getting to be quite brave," was his approving
comment; and Ellen, with a puzzled glance around the table, laughed,
looked earnestly at Gram, but said nothing; I think she had caught
Addison's eye fixed meaningly on her.

If recollection serves me aright, I was the next whose morning symptoms
indicated the need of Vermifuge; and I remember the thrill of amazement
that went through me when the Spoon upset its dark contents adown the
roots of my tongue and Gram's cozy hand came up under my chin.

"Why, Gram!" I spluttered. "This isn't----!" "Here, dear boy, take a
good swallow of coffee. That'll take the taste out o' your mouth," Gramp
interrupted, his own face drawn into a compassionate pucker, and he
clapped the cup to my mouth. I drank, but, still wondering, was about to
break forth again, when a vigorous kick under the table