custard, now, if you please, Elizabeth?'

'No,' I said sternly. 'It's very strange that the ipecac, has had no
effect.'

'Try salt and water. There's more about it, like,' remarked Elizabeth.
'I'll fetch some.'

'And hurry,' Henry commanded, 'every moment's delay is making the thing
more serious.'

'Now drink this salt and water, darling,' I urged The Kid when
Elizabeth reappeared.

'Oh, _must_ I, Mama?'

[Illustration: 'Oh, _must_ I, Mama?']

'Yes. Your life depends upon it.'

She drank rather hastily at that. There was a long, long pause while
Elizabeth, Henry and I gazed into each other's eyes and--waited.

'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
anxiety, I handed The Kid the foaming mixture.

'Drink,' I panted.

'Oh, mus----' she began.

'Don't say that again!' I exclaimed, overwrought by the intensity of my
emotions. 'Can't you see how serious it is, child? You might die any
minute.'

She drank off the contents of the glass without further question.

'Well, that ought to do it,' commented Henry, looking at a few
iridescent bubbles at the bottom of the glass. 'I made it strong.'

There was a strained silence when I almost seemed to hear my own heart
beats. 'How--how--do you feel, now, darling?' I asked at last.

'Dreadful, thank you, Mama, dear.'

'That isn't enough,' I cried in anguish. 'Can't you----?'

'No, I can't, Mama.'

'This is terrible,' I broke out, fast becoming hysterical. 'What is to
be done! Can nothing save her?'