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And I hope, Agnes said with severity, that you havent worms in that suitcase, with a lot of other worthless truck, as you had when you went on our automobile tour, Sammy.
Huh! whered I dig fishworms this time of year? responded the boy with scorn. Besides, mom packed this bag, and shes left out a whole lot of things Ill need up there in the woods. She wont even let me take my bow-arrer and a steel trap I got down at the blacksmith shop by the canal. Of course, the latch of the trap was broke, but we might have fixed it and used it to catch wolves with.
Oh, my! squealed Dot. Wolves? Why, they are savage!
Course they are savage, said Sammy.
But but Mr. Howbridge, our guardian, wouldnt let any wolves stay around that Darling Lodge. They might eat my Alice-doll!
Sure, agreed the boy, as Agnes was not within hearing. Like enough the wolf pack will chase us when we are sleighing, and youll have to throw that doll over to pacificate em so we can escape with our lives. They do that in Russia. Throw the babies away to save folks lives.
Well! exclaimed Tess, half doubting
this bold statement. Babies must be awful cheap in Russia. Cheaper than they are here. You know we cant get a baby in this house, and we all would like to have one.
But Dot had been stricken dumb by Sammys wild statement. She hugged the Alice-doll to her breast, and her eyes were wide with fear.
Do you suppose that may happen, Tess? she whispered.
What may happen?
That we get chased by wolfs and and have to throw somebody overboard to em?
I dont believe so, said Tess, after all somewhat impressed by Sammys assurance.
Well, anyway, said Dot, I was only going to take Alice up there to that Lodge; but Ill take the sailor-doll, too. He can stand being thrown to the wolves better than Alice. Hes tougher.
If it had not already been decided to take Tom Jonah, the big Newfoundland, along on this winter trip, Dot might really have balked at going.
CHAPTER VI ON THE WINGS OF THE WIND
Ruth had been up as early as Linda, the Finnish maid. There was still much to do, and the sleigh would be at the door at eight-thirty. When Linda came down, however, she stopped at Ruths door and said she had heard Uncle Rufus groaning most of the night. The old colored man was undoubtedly suffering from one of his recurrent rheumatic attacks.
Ruth hurried up to the third story of the house and to Uncle Rufus room.
Yesm, Missie Ruth, groaned the old man. Ahs jes knocked right down agin. Ah don believe Ahs goin to be able to git up a-tall to see yo off dis mawnin.
Poor Uncle Rufus! said the oldest Corner House girl, commiseratingly. I believe Id better telephone to Dr. Forsyth and let him come
Nom. Ah don want dat Dr. Forsyth to come a-near me, Missie Ruth, interrupted Uncle Rufus.
Why, of course you do, said the girl. He gave you something before that helped you. Dont you remember?
Ah don say he don know hes business, Missie Ruth, said the old man, shaking his head. Mebbe his medcines jest as good as de nex doctors medcine. But Ah don want Dr. Forsyth no mo.
Why not?
Dr. Forsyth done insulted me, said the old man, with rising indignation. He done talk about me.
Why, Uncle Rufus!
Sho has! repeated the black man. An Ah nebber did him a mite o harm. He done say things about me dat I cant nebber overlook no, maam!
Why, Uncle Rufus! murmured the worried Ruth, I think you must be mistaken. I cant imagine Dr. Forsyth being unkind, or saying unkind things about one.
He sho did, declared the obstinate old man. And he done put it in writin. You jes reach me ma best coat, Missie Ruth. Its all set down dar on ma burial papers.
Of course, Uncle Rufus, like most frugal colored people, belonged to a burial association an insurance scheme by which one must die to win.
What could Dr. Forsyth have said about you that you think is unkind, Uncle Rufus? repeated Ruth, as she came into the room to get the coat.
Ah tell yo what he done said! exclaimed the old man, indignantly. Dr. Forsyth say Ah was a drunkard an a joy-rider! Dats what he say! An de goodness know, Missie Ruth, I aint tetch a drap of gin fo many a long year, and I aint nebber step foot in even your automobile. Nom! He done insulted me befo de members of ma burial lodge, an I don want nothin mo to do wid dat white man nom!
He spread out the insurance policy with a flourish and pointed to the examining doctors notation regarding Uncle Rufus former illness: Autotoxication.
Ahs a respectable man, urged Uncle Rufus, evidently hurt to the quick by what he thought was Dr. Forsyths uncalled-for criticism. Ah dont get drunk in no auto nom! An I dont go scootin roun de country in one o dem bominations. Dere is niggers wat owns one o dem flivvers an drinks gin wid it. But not Unc Rufus nom!
I never would accuse you of such reprehensible habits, Ruth assured him, having considerable difficulty in suppressing after all a desire to laugh. Nor does Dr. Forsyth mean anything like that.
She explained carefully to the old negro that autotoxication meant self-poisoning the poisoning of the body by unexpelled organic matter. This poison, in the form of an acid in the blood, was the cause of Uncle Rufus pains and aches.