Faraday Little smiled in the superiority of boyhood over girlhood.

"I allude to the classification. That plant is the belladonna, or
deadly nightshade. Its alkaloid is a narcotic poison."

Sauciness turned pale. "I--have--just--eaten--some!" And began to
whimper. "O dear, what shall I do?" Then did it, i. e. wrung her
small fingers and cried.

"Pardon me one moment." Little passed his arm around her neck, and
with his thumb opened widely the patrician-veined lids of her sweet
blue eyes. "Thank Heaven, there is yet no dilation of the pupil;
it is not too late!" He cast a rapid glance around. The nozzle
and about three feet of garden hose lay near him.

"Open your mouth, quick!"

It was a pretty, kissable mouth. But young Little meant business.
He put the nozzle down her pink throat as far as it would go.

"Now, don't move."

He wrapped his handkerchief around a hoopstick. Then he inserted
both in the other end of the stiff hose. It fitted snugly. He
shoved it in and then drew it back.

Nature abhors a vacuum. The young patrician was as amenable to
this law as the child of the lowest peasant.