I can't feel anythin' but bitter
still when I think of yesterday 'n' last night. I was sittin' there 's
innocent 's a mule eatin' thistles, 'n' all of a sudden I felt to say,
'Mrs. Brown, did you put bakin' powder or yeast in that cake?' It was
then 's she told me 't she'd up 'n' made it with suthin' 's a peddler
throwed in at the door. 'Where's the label?' I says, puttin' my hand
to where I felt the most need o' knowin' what in creation to come I
had got in me. Well, Mrs. Lathrop, 'f she hadn't burned up the label;
so there was nothin' f'r me to do but go home 'n' come nigh to dyin'
of I did n't know what. I 've got a book, 'The Handy Family Friend,'
's tells what you 'd ought to take after you 've took anythin', 'n' I
read it 'way through to see 'f there was any rule f'r when you don't
know what you 've took, but there wa'n't no directions, 'n' so I jus'
calmly spent the night hoppin' about like mad, 'n' I 'm free to
confess 't there'll be a coolness in my feelin's towards Mrs. Brown
henceforth. I ain't said nothin' direct to her herself, but I spoke my
full mind to Mrs. Macy, 'n' Mrs. Macy give me to understand 's she
should let Mrs.
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