Part 13 (2/2)

When it was time for dinner, Mrs. Clifford spread a table-cloth on the ground, and covered it with the nice food she had brought. It was a delightful entertainment. Flyaway was so nearly wild with the new experience of eating in the woods, among the toads and squirrels, that she required constant watching to keep her within bounds. She wanted to run after all the little creeping things she saw, and give them part of her dinner. Horace gladly a.s.sumed the care of her. He did not mean that his mother should regret having brought little Topknot.

CHAPTER X.

SURPRISES.

After a very happy day in the woods, the Cliffords started for home with as many nuts as they could carry.

Dotty said she had had a nice time; but for some reason she could not go to sleep that night. There was a burning sensation in her right side, and she had a horrible fancy that a snake had bitten her. She could not endure the thought of lying and listening to the strokes of the clock.

”I'll go find my father,” thought she, with that ”far-off” feeling at her heart again.

But which way to go? She had not yet learned the plan of the house, but had no doubt she could find her father's room. She pattered about the chambers with her little bare feet, and at last waked Horace by overturning a chair near his bed.

”Why, who is there? And what's wanted?”

”It's me, and I want my father.”

By this time Aunt Maria, hearing a noise, had come in with a light.

”Are you sick, dear child?”

”No, auntie; I don't know what's the matter; I 'spect it's the blues. I had 'em you know, when the beer came to an end--I mean the world--I mean that night Polly Whiting called me up.”

Horace used all his self-control to keep from laughing.

”Well, Cousin Dotty, you do look blue, I declare; as blue as the skimmiest milk of the cheatiest milkman. Mother, isn't there something in the medicine chest that is good for the blues?”

”They are in my side--I mean _it_,” said Dotty, dismally. ”I'm afraid it's a--snake?”

Mrs. Clifford took the afflicted child in her arms, and began to question her with regard to the exact spot where she felt the ”blues,”

a.s.suring her that some relief might be afforded if the nature of the trouble could only be discovered.

”O, ho,” cried Horace, suddenly; ”I know what it is; it's a jigger.”

Upon reflection, it was decided that Horace might be right. A little creature called the _chegre_, had perhaps made its way out of some decayed log and crept in under Dotty's skin, causing all this heat and irritation. There was a small, hard swelling on her side, which appeared to move. Her father asked her if she was willing to have him cut it out with his penknife.

Dotty hesitated; her nerves quivered at sight of the sharp blade.

”But that cruel little _chegre_ is drinking your blood, my daughter. The more he drinks, the larger he will grow, and the harder it will be to cut him out.”

”That's so,” said Horace. ”I could preach, with jigger for a text. Ahem!

He is like sin--the more you let him stay, the more you'll wish you hadn't. Come, Dotty, be brave, and out with him!”

”You can talk to _me_,” said Dotty, bitterly; ”but if it was _your_ side that had a _jiggle_ in, perhaps you'd feel as bad's I do.”

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