"Cos she couldn't go to the city, she's most worked herself to death.
She's done all the dirty, hard jobs she could find. She's fixing her
grape juice now."
"Sure!" cried Mrs. Comstock. "When a woman is disappointed she always
works like a dog to gain sympathy!"
"Well, Uncle Wesley and I are sympathizing all we know how, without her
working so. I've squeezed until I almost busted to get the juice out
from the seeds and skins. That's the hard part. Now, she has to strain
it through white flannel and seal it in bottles, and it's good for sick
folks. Most wish I'd get sick myself, so I could have a glass. It's so
good!"
Elnora glanced swiftly at her mother.
"I worked so hard," continued Billy, "that she said if I would throw
the leavings in the woods, then I could come after you to see about the
bugs. Do you want to go?"
"We will all go," said Mrs. Comstock. "I am mightily interested in those
bugs myself."
From afar commotion could be seen at the Sinton home. Wesley and
Margaret were running around wildly and peculiar sounds filled the air.
"What's the trouble?" asked Philip, hurrying to Wesley.
"Cholera!" groaned Sinton. "My hogs are dying like flies."
Margaret was softly crying. "Wesley, can't I fix something hot? Can't we
do anything? It means several hundred dollars and our winter meat."
"I never saw stock taken so suddenly and so hard," said Wesley. "I have
'phoned for the veterinary to come as soon as he can get here.
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