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XXXIII. In the Sun—A Harbinger

           

           "’Tisonlymymanner,MisterOak,ifye’llexcuseit,"saidCainBall,lookingreproachfullyatOak,witheyesdrenchedintheirowndew.

           "Here’ssomeciderforhimthat’llcurehisthroat,"saidJanCoggan,liftingaflagonofcider,pullingoutthecork,andapplyingtheholetoCainy’smouth;JosephPoorgrassinthemeantimebeginningtothinkapprehensivelyoftheseriousconsequencesthatwouldfollowCainyBall’sstrangulationinhiscough,andthehistoryofhisBathadventuresdyingwithhim.

           "Formypoorself,Ialwayssay’pleaseGod’aforeIdoanything,"saidJoseph,inanunboastfulvoice;"andsoshouldyou,CainBall.’Tisagreatsafeguard,andmightperhapssaveyoufrombeingchokedtodeathsomeday."

           Mr.CogganpouredtheliquorwithunstintedliberalityatthesufferingCain’scircularmouth;halfofitrunningdownthesideoftheflagon,andhalfofwhatreachedhismouthrunningdownoutsidehisthroat,andhalfofwhatraningoingthewrongway,andbeingcoughedandsneezedaroundthepersonsofthegatheredreapersintheformofaciderfog,whichforamomenthunginthesunnyairlikeasmallexhalation.

           "There’sagreatclumsysneeze!Whycan’tyehavebettermanners,youyoungdog!"saidCoggan,withdrawingtheflagon.

           "Theciderwentupmynose!"criedCainy,assoonashecouldspeak;"andnow’tisgonedownmyneck,andintomypoordumbfelon,andovermyshinybuttonsandallmybestcloze!"

           "Thepoorlad’scoughisterribleunfortunate,"saidMatthewMoon."Andagreathistoryonhand,too.Bumphisback,shepherd."

           "’Tismynater,"mournedCain.

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