ers better."

"But these are the _mizzerble_ kind, that don't split," said Lady
Magnifico, in tragic tones; "I told you so to-day noon."

"Stop a minute, Miss Hubbard; my coffee's too sour," cried the
youngest, determined to scowl as hard as Dotty did, if it was a possible
thing.

The worried landlady passed the sugar, and the small boarder corrected
the _sourness_ of her white tea with three teaspoonfuls, heaping
measure.

"My little Toddlekins is eating nothing." said the doctor. "I hope her
red cheeks don't indicate fever."

"There's great quantities of sickness just now among children," said
Lady Magnifico, crooking her little finger genteelly. "_Nervous
Exhaustation_ is going about."

"Nervous what, my lady?"

"_Exhaustation_. I am well acquainted with a lady in the first society
that had it dreadfully. She called in twenty-five doctors, if my memory
_preserves_ me right; and _then_ she like to died."

"You know it for a fact, my lady? I hope it won't come here (or the
doctors either). Is it catching, Dr. Moonshine?"

"Well, yes, Mother Hubbard; it's apt to catch fine ladies. Goes hard
with 'em, too."

"Ah me, then I'll never dare go out," drawled Lady Magnifico, looking at
her rings.

Here Mother Hubbard timidly passed the cake. "White Mountain; but I
suspect it's a poor rule."

"A poor rule that don't work both ways, hey? If this was ever white,
ma'am, 'twasn't a fast color; faded to a rusty black. And as to it's
being a mountain, ma'am, it looks to me like a pretty hollow valley."

"I'm so sorry, doctor! But your little girl dusted my soda over the
cat, and that was why the cake didn't rise."

"Just so, ma'am; but did the cat rise?"

"O, Dr. Moonshine, I see you're making fun of my cooking. And now I'll
tell you something more. I got the butter ready, and forgot to put it
in, and that's why the cake's so tough."

"Never mind," said the doctor, very amiable as long as he could make his
joke. "It is pretty tough cake, ma'am; but it's always tougher where
there's none."

"There's one thing about it," said Mother Hubbard, a little relieved;
"it's sweet in the middle, and you needn't eat the bitter part, where
it's burnt."

"It's my practice to mix the bitter with the sweet," said the doctor,
waving the butter-knife. "In this way, Mother H., your black-valley cake
is almost as good as pills."

"I ate a pill," observed Fly, "and 'twas worser'n this!"

"You ate a pill, child? When? Where? I'