You do look real sick, to be sure."
"Wall, if you don't like the looks of me," said Mrs. Putnam sharply,
"don't look at me."
"But didn't you pound?" asked Samanthy. "Don't you want me to go for the
doctor?"
"No," replied Mrs. Putnam, "I don't want no doctor. The fust thing that
I want you to do is to go and comb that frowzy pate of yourn, and when
you git that done I want yer to make me a mustard plaster 'bout as big
as that;" and she held up her hands about a foot apart. "Now go, and
don't stand and look at me as though I wuz a circus waggin."
Samanthy left the room quickly, but she had no sooner closed the door
when Mrs. Putnam called out her name in a loud voice, and Samanthy
opened the door and looked in.
"Did you call, marm?" she asked.
"Of course I did," said Mrs. Putnam testily. "I guess ye wouldn't have
come back if yer hadn't known I did."
Mrs. Putnam was evidently in a bad temper, and Samanthy had learned by
years of experience to keep a close mouth under such circumstances, so
she waited for Mrs. Putnam's next words without replying.
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