To my intense relief Marion dashed in at that moment. 'Have you given
her an emetic?' she demanded breathlessly.

Elizabeth, Henry and I gathered round her with the necessary
information.

'She has had several. Ipecac.----'

'Twice.'

'Salt and water----'

'A cupful.'

'Warm soap and water----'

'One glass.'

'And,' I concluded, now in tears, 'she won't be sick--simply _won't_!'

'I do want to, _auntie_,' explained The Kid, her child's sense of
justice receiving mortal blows, 'but I can't _be_----'

Marion stood and gazed at her in awe. 'It's wonderful,' she murmured,
'amazing! I think, perhaps, _The Lancet_ would be interested in a
letter on the subject.'

'But what did the doctor say?' broke in Henry. 'Is he coming?'