"Ah! Is it a bad one?"

"Yes, sir, awful bad--he's all foamy."

"What did you do for it?"

"Susie and me turned him over, and Billy's seein' he don't get his
tongue down his throat--like what you told us, and we ran to you. Susie
was frightened, he hollered so."

Past the three cottages, whence a woman at a window stared in amaze to
see that queer couple running, past the pond where the ducks, whiter
than ever in the brightening sunlight, dived and circled carelessly,
into the Tryst kitchen. There on the brick floor lay the distressful
man, already struggling back out of epilepsy, while his little
frightened son sat manfully beside him.

"Towels, and hot water, Biddy!"

With extraordinary calm rapidity the small creature brought what might
have been two towels, a basin, and the kettle; and in silence she and
Tod steeped his forehead.

"Eyes look better, Biddy?"

"He don't look so funny now, sir."

Picking up that form, almost as big as his own, Tod carried it up
impossibly narrow stairs and laid it on a dishevelled bed.