"Oh, Solomon! What is it?" And Miss Roberts sprang up, in her
turn.
But Mr. Solomon Baxter only paused to clasp his face more closely
and groan, and then resumed his former antics. Miss Roberts was
seriously alarmed. Had the man suddenly gone mad? Was he dying?
"Solomon! Solomon!" she implored him. "Tell me, only speak to me
and tell me what is the matter!"
"'Y 'ou'," replied Mr. Baxter vehemently, but not very
intelligibly.
"What?" Miss Roberts hurried to his side and, bending, gazed up
into his face which was still turned floorward.
"'Y 'ou'; I 'aw' 'uh' 'y 'ou'," answered Mr. Baxter again, this
time pointing down his throat.
Miss Roberts saw that there was some trouble with his mouth. It
was a relief to find that her lover was of sound mind. From his
broken speech, she was beginning to fear some new, strange form of
paralysis, but his wild lunges about the room relieved those
apprehensions. It was only his mouth, then. She smiled
sympathetically.
"I understand," she said; "it is the toothache. It is very
painful, while it lasts, but I have something that will stop it.
Just shut your mouth and make yourself as comfortable as you can,
and I will get it.
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