"What is it?
Do you know ?" "Grip," she answered.

"Two or three days you alla da right.

Better you no eat now.

Bimeby plenty can eat, to-morrow can eat maybe." Martin was not used to sickness, and when Maria and her little girl left him, he essayed to get up and dress.

By a supreme exertion of will, with rearing brain and eyes that ached so that he could not keep them open, he managed to get out of bed, only to be left stranded by his senses upon the table.