Sketches New and Old by Mark Twain

disease is incurable?”

I said that while there was life there was hope.

“Hope! Mortimer, you know no more what you are talking about than the

child unborn. If you would– As I live, the directions say give one

teaspoonful once an hour! Once an hour!–as if we had a whole year

before us to save the child in! Mortimer, please hurry. Give the poor

perishing thing a tablespoonful, and try to be quick!”

“Why, my dear, a tablespoonful might–”

“Don’t drive me frantic! . . . There, there, there, my precious, my

own; it’s nasty bitter stuff, but it’s good for Nelly–good for mother’s

precious darling; and it will make her well. There, there, there, put

the little head on mamma’s breast and go to sleep, and pretty soon–oh,

I know she can’t live till morning! Mortimer, a tablespoonful every

half-hour will–Oh, the child needs belladonna, too; I know she does–and

aconite. Get them, Mortimer. Now do let me have my way. You know

nothing about these things.”

We now went to bed, placing the crib close to my wife’s pillow. All this

turmoil had worn upon me, and within two minutes I was something more

than half asleep. Mrs. McWilliams roused me:

“Darling, is that register turned on?”

“No.”

“I thought as much. Please turn it on at once. This room is cold.”

I turned it on, and presently fell asleep again. I was aroused once

more:

“Dearie, would you mind moving the crib to your side of the bed? It is

nearer the register.”

I moved it, but had a collision with the rug and woke up the child. I

dozed off once more, while my wife quieted the sufferer. But in a little

while these words came murmuring remotely through the fog of my

drowsiness:

“Mortimer, if we only had some goose grease–will you ring?”

I climbed dreamily out, and stepped on a cat, which responded with a

protest and would have got a convincing kick for it if a chair had not

got it instead.

“Now, Mortimer, why do you want to turn up the gas and wake up the child

again?”

“Because I want to see how much I am hurt, Caroline.”

“Well, look at the chair, too–I have no doubt it is ruined. Poor cat,

suppose you had–”

“Now I am not going to suppose anything about the cat. It never would

have occurred if Maria had been allowed to remain here and attend to

these duties, which are in her line and are not in mine.”

“Now, Mortimer, I should think you would be ashamed to make a remark like

that. It is a pity if you cannot do the few little things I ask of you

at such an awful time as this when our child–”

“There, there, I will do anything you want. But I can’t raise anybody

with this bell. They’re all gone to bed. Where is the goose grease?”

“On the mantelpiece in the nursery. If you’ll step there and speak to

Maria–”

I fetched the goose grease and went to sleep again. Once more I was

called:

“Mortimer, I so hate to disturb you, but the room is still too cold for

me to try to apply this stuff. Would you mind lighting the fire? It is

all ready to touch a match to.”

I dragged myself out and lit the fire, and then sat down disconsolate.

“Mortimer, don’t sit there and catch your death of cold. Come to bed.”

As I was stepping in she said:

“But wait a moment. Please give the child some more of the medicine.”

Which I did. It was a medicine which made a child more or less lively;

so my wife made use of its waking interval to strip it and grease it all

over with the goose oil. I was soon asleep once more, but once more I

had to get up.

“Mortimer, I feel a draft. I feel it distinctly. There is nothing so

bad for this disease as a draft. Please move the crib in front of the

fire.”

I did it; and collided with the rug again, which I threw in the fire.

Mrs. McWilliams sprang out of bed and rescued it and we had some words.

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