"
"Oh, I'm pleased," replied Sarah curtly. "I'm pleased. Did you notice
how yellow Abel was lookin' at the weddin'? What he needs is a good dose
of castor oil. I've seen him like that befo', an' I know."
"Oh, grandma! how can you? who ever heard of anybody taking castor oil
on their wedding day?"
"Well, thar's a lot of 'em that would better," rejoined Sarah in her
tart manner. The perfection of Mr. Mullen's behaviour in church combined
with her forgetfulness to make up the feather bed had destroyed her day,
and her irritation expressed itself as usual in a moral revolt from her
surroundings. "To think of makin' all this fuss about that pop-eyed Judy
Hatch," she thought, and a minute later she said aloud, "Thar they are
now; Blossom, you take Judy upstairs to her room an' I'll see after
Abel. It ain't any use contradictin' me. He's in for a bilious spell
just as sure as you are born." She spoke irritably, for her anxiety
about Abel's liver covered a deeper disquietude, and she was battling
with all the obstinacy of the Hawtreys against the acknowledgment that
the ailment she was preparing to dose with drugs was a simple malady
of the soul.
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