"I'm not afraid
of gnats, or mosquitoes, or, or on-wees!"
She chanced to overhear her father and Dr. Christian talking the
next day on the porch, and heard the wise old physician say:
"I'm not sure I could countenance that, Robert. What Jessie
needs is an invigorating, bracing atmosphere. A sea voyage would
do her the greatest possible good."
"Perhaps a trip to Buffalo, down the lakes?"
"No, no! That's merely an old woman's home-made plaster on the
wound. Something more drastic. Salt air. A long, slow voyage,
overseas. It often wracks the system, but it brings the patient
to better and more stable health. Jessie may yet be a strong,
well woman if we take the right course with her."
Nevertheless, Mr. Sherwood wrote to his brother. He had to do
so, it seemed. There was no other course open to him.
And while he fished in that direction, Momsey threw out her line
toward Memphis and Adair MacKenzie. Mr. Sherwood pulled in his
line first, without much of a nibble, it must be confessed.
"Dear Bob," the elder Sherwood wrote: "Things are flatter than a
stepped-on pancake with me. I've got a bunch of trouble with old
Ged Raffer and may have to go into court with him. Am not
cutting a stick of timber.
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