A couple of
bottles and a box stood by his side, and I should think he had
administered a cup of sweet oil, a pint of paraffin, and a quarter of a
pound of tobacco during his clinic. He had used the remedies
impartially, sometimes giving the paraffin internally and rubbing the
patient's head with tobacco or oil, sometimes the reverse.
Several goslings leaned languidly against the netting, or supported
themselves by the edge of the water-dish, while others staggered and
reeled about with eyes half closed.
It was Mrs. Heaven who caught her son red-handed, so to speak. She was
dressed in her best, and just driving off to Woodmucket to spend a day or
two with her married daughter, and soothe her nerves with the uproar
incident to a town of six hundred inhabitants. She delayed her journey a
half-hour--long enough, in fact, to change her black silk waist for a
loose sacque which would give her arms full and comfortable play. The
joy and astonishment that greeted the Square Baby on his advent, five
years ago, was forgotten for the first time in his brief life, and he was
treated precisely as any ordinary wrongdoer would have been treated under
the same circumstances, summarily and smartly; the "wepping," as Phoebe
would say, being Mrs. Heaven's hand.
All but one of the goslings lived, like thousands of others who recover
in spite of the doctors, but the Square Baby's interest in the healing
art is now perceptibly lessened.
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