81/95 I suppose the little imp will have a fit if I suggest it, and probably perish of indigestion to-morrow." Eileen laughed. "Oh, Nina, _do_ let Drina come this once! It can't hurt her--she'll look so quaint. The child's nearly fifteen, you know; do let me put up her hair. Boots will take her in." "Well, you and Austin can administer the calomel to-morrow, then. |