"You an' me, we'll take a bo't an' go out some day and see
mother," she promised me. "'Twould please her very much,
an' there's one or two sca'ce herbs grows better on the island than
anywhere else. I ain't seen their like nowheres here on the main."
"Now I'm goin' right down to get us each a mug o' my beer,"
she announced as we entered the house, "an' I believe I'll sneak in
a little mite o' camomile. Goin' to the funeral an' all, I feel to
have had a very wearin' afternoon."
I heard her going down into the cool little cellar, and then
there was considerable delay. When she returned, mug in hand, I
noticed the taste of camomile, in spite of my protest; but its
flavor was disguised by some other herb that I did not know, and
she stood over me until I drank it all and said that I liked it.
"I don't give that to everybody," said Mrs. Todd kindly; and
I felt for a moment as if it were part of a spell and incantation,
and as if my enchantress would now begin to look like the cobweb
shapes of the arctic town.
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