water.... _Drops_ of water--_Dropsy_."

"Never drink water," murmured Dam, absentmindedly annexing, and
pocketing, an apple.

"Ah, water, but you see this is lemonade," countered Lucille.
"Home-made, too, and not--er--gusty. It doesn't make you go----" and
here it is regrettable to have to relate that Lucille made a
shockingly realistic sound, painfully indicative of the condition of
one who has imbibed unwisely and too well of a gas-impregnated liquor.

"No more does water in my experiants," returned Cook, "and I was not
allooding to wulgarity, Miss Lucy, which you should know better than
to do such. My pore young sister's systerm turned watery and they
tapped her at the last. All through drinking too much water, which
lemonade ain't so very different either, be it never so 'ome-made....
Tapped 'er they did--like a carksk, an' 'er a Band of 'Oper, Blue
Ribander, an' Sunday Schooler from birth, an' not departin' from it
when she grew up. Such be the Ways of Providence," and Cook sighed
with protestive respectfulness....

"Tapped 'er systerm, they did," she added pensively, and with a little
justifiable pride.

"Were they hard taps?" inquired Lucille, reappearing from behind the
flagon. "I hate them myself, even on the funny-bone or knuckles--but
on the _cistern!_ Ugh!"

"_Hard_ taps; they was _silver_ taps," ejaculated Cook, "and drawed
gallings and gallings--and nothing to laugh at, Master Dammicles,