"Ain't you Sam Raften?" she asked fiercely.

"Yes, marm. I get hurt on a nail in the fence. They say you kin git
blood-p'isinin' that way," said Sam, groaning a little and trying to
look interesting. The order to "get out" died on the witch's lips. Her
good old Irish heart warmed to the sufferer. After all, it was rather
pleasant to have the enemy thus humbly seek her aid, so she muttered:

"Le's see it."

Sam was trying amid many groans to expose the disgusting mess he had
made around his knee, when a step was heard outside. The door opened
and in walked Biddy.

She and Yan recognized each other at once. The one had grown much
longer, the other much broader since the last meeting, but the
greeting was that of two warm-hearted people glad to see each other
once more.

"An' how's yer father an' yer mother an' how is all the fambily? Law,
do ye mind the Cherry Lung-balm we uster make? My, but we wuz greenies
then! Ye mind, I uster tell ye about Granny? Well, here she is.
Granny, this is Yan. Me an' him hed lots o' fun together when I
'resided' with his mamma, didn't we, Yan? Now, Granny's the one to
tell ye all about the plants."

A long groan from Sam now called all attention his way.

"Well, if it ain't Sam Raften," said Biddy coldly.