Mrs. Tennyson was normally a very proper woman who never went out in public without dressing up in fine clothes and a hat.
So it was quite surprising to the people of Green Lake to see her running past them.
“Sam!” she shouted. “Whoa, Mary Lou,” said Sam, stopping his mule and cart.
“G'morning, Mrs. Tennyson,” he said. “How's little Becca doing?” Gladys Tennyson was all smiles.
“I think she's going to be all right. The fever broke about an hour ago. Thanks to you.”
“I'm sure the good Lord and Doc Hawthorn deserve most of the credit.”
“The Good Lord, yes,” agreed Mrs. Tennyson, “but not Dr. Hawthorn. That quack wanted to put leeches on her stomach! Leeches! My word!”
“He said they would suck out the bad blood. Now you tell me. How would a leech know good blood from bad blood?”
“I wouldn't know,” said Sam. “It was your onion tonic,” said Mrs. Tennyson. “That's what saved her.”
Other townspeople made their way to the cart. “Good morning, Gladys,” said Hattie Parker.
“Don't you look lovely this morning.” Several people snickered.
“Good morning, Hattie,” Mrs. Tennyson replied. “Does your husband know you're parading about in your bed clothes?” Hattie asked.
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