"No," said John, decidedly, "it must be black and out of a bottle, or it
won't do any good."

After thinking a moment, she trotted quietly across the passage into
Aunt Izzie's room. Nobody was there, but John knew where the Elixir Pro
was kept--in the closet on the third shelf. She pulled one of the
drawers out a little, climbed up, and reached it down. The children were
enchanted when she marched back, the bottle in one hand, the cork in the
other, and proceeded to pour a liberal dose on to Pikery's wooden seat,
which John called his lap.

"There! there! my poor boy," she said, patting his shoulder--I mean his
arm--"swallow it down--it'll do you good."

Just then Aunt Izzie came in, and to her dismay saw a long trickle of
something dark and sticky running down on to the carpet. It was Pikery's
medicine, which he had refused to swallow.

"What is that?" she asked sharply.

"My baby is sick," faltered John, displaying the guilty bottle.

Aunt Izzie rapped her over the head with a thimble, and told her that
she was a very naughty child, whereupon Johnnie pouted, and cried a
little. Aunt Izzie wiped up the slop, and taking away the Elixir,
retired with it to her closet, saying that she "never knew anything like
it--it was always so on Mondays."

What further pranks were played in the nursery that day, I cannot