'How do you feel now?' I asked at last with strained anxiety.

'I'm feeling rather sick now, thank you, Mama, dear. But perhaps I
could manage a little of my cus----'

'No,' I interrupted. 'Can't you be sick, child?'

'I'm afraid I can't, Mama.'

'Then why can't you?' Henry burst out. 'It's dreadful--most unnatural.'

'She's got a stummick like an 'orse,' commented Elizabeth.

'Prompt action is vital,' put in Henry firmly. 'There are other
emetics. Mustard and----'

'I've always 'eard that soap and water's good for turnin' any one
over,' began Elizabeth.

'Soap and water!' I echoed, 'yes, that sounds the worst--the best, I
mean. Get it at once, Elizabeth.'

'Enough to make a good lather, should you think, 'm?'

'Oh, _must_ I?' wailed the Kid, still questioning inexorable Fate.

We all united in preparing the soap and water to avoid delay.
Elizabeth boiled the water. Henry cut the soap into small flakes, and
I beat it up into a lather. Then, now in a condition of feverish