The other matter that disturbed him was the dire inflation that had begun in his stomach.

It grew and grew, it became more and more insupportable.

Evidently the turnips were "fermenting." He forced himself to sit still as long as he could, but his anguish conquered him at last.
He rose in the midst of the Colonel's talk and excused himself on the plea of a previous engagement.

The Colonel followed him to the door, promising over and over again that he would use his influence to get some of the Early Malcolms for him, and insisting that he should not be such a stranger but come and take pot-luck with him every chance he got.
Washington was glad enough to get away and feel free again.

He immediately bent his steps toward home.
In bed he passed an hour that threatened to turn his hair gray, and then a blessed calm settled down upon him that filled his heart with gratitude.