By to-morrow, if she takes her medicine, she ought to be as well as ever." Ann's own room turned out to be on the shady side, and though not so grand as the spare-room, it was pleasantly cool.

The little bed with the hard mattress and the snowy counterpane was infinitely to be preferred to the ocean of feathers, and the rescued maiden lay back on her smaller pillows with a sigh of gratitude.
"Sure you won't tell ?" she whispered as he laid her down.
"Honour bright.

Cross my heart! But you must take the medicine.

It's nasty, but not too nasty, and you mustn't squeal--or it will be the spare-room again.

Red cheeks and prickly heat are consequences, but feather-beds and medicine are retribution." "That's right, Doctor," said Mrs.Sykes, who had heard the last words.
"There's nothing like a word about retribution when a person's sick.