_Jenny._ No, no! Get me some water--quick!
_Juno._ (_Running_ L.) To be sure, honey; to be sure.
_Bessie._ No, no, Juno! some ipecac, or a stomach pump.
_Juno._ Pump, pump! Want de pump? I'll fetch it, I'll fetch it. Bress my soul, I'll fetch something. _Exit_, L.
_Mrs. G._ Well, if this ain't drefful!--washing-day, too--and the undertaker's jest as busy as he can be--there never was so much _immortality_ in this place, never. Poor critters! poor critters!
_Bessie._ O, dear, what will become of me?
_Jenny._ O, this dreadful parching in the throat!
_Mrs. G._ O, I know it, I know it. I told my husband that something dreadful was a goin' to happen when he sold that colt yesterday.
_Miss P._ Sadie, what is the meaning of this. Your pulse is regular, your head cool, and your tongue clear.
_Sadie._ O, Miss Pease, it's those dreadful pickles.
_Mrs. G._ Yes, indeed, it is a drefful pickle--and so sudden, jest for all the world like poor Mr. Brown's sudden took, and these always seem to end fatally at some time or other--Dear me, dear me, and my wash--
_Miss P._ Pickles! Have you disobeyed me?
_Sadie._ I couldn't help it, Miss Pease; they looked so tempting. But I only took one.
_Sadie._ Mrs. Gabble says the vinegar was poisoned by Mr. Smith.
_Mrs. G._ Smith--vinegar--p'isoned! The land sakes! And I a good church member--and my washing--and poor Mr. Brown, tew. Well, I never! I'd have you to know that I bought no vinegar of Mr. Smith, I made my own.
_Sadie._ And your pickles were not poisoned?
_Mrs. G._ No, indeed. Never did such a thing in my life.
_Sadie._ O, dear! I'm so glad! (_Jumping up._)
_Bessie._ I won't have the ipecac. (_Rises._)
_Jenny._ My throat is decidedly better. (_Rises._)
_Enter_ JUNO _with a pail of water and a dipper._
_Juno._ Bress my soul, de pump was fastened down so tight couldn't git it up. Here's a pail of water; if dat won't do I'll git a tub.
_Miss P._ No matter, Juno. I think 'twill not be needed. Young ladies, I am very sorry--
_Sadie._ Please, Miss Pease, do not speak of it. I alone am to blame for transgressing your command, for such we should consider it, as you are for the present our guardian. Forgive me, and in future I will endeavour to control my appetite, and comply with your wishes.