WELL, I got supper that night while Sophy was tendin' on Baker. How I done it is more'n I can tell; for my head swum so it seemed like the cook stove an' cupboard an' table wus a-swingin' back an' forth like penjulums. When Sophy come out an' see me, she looked scared, an' made me go right to bed in the front bedroom agin. What happened after that I don't know much about, only every time I spoke, an' lots when I didn't, Sophy wus right there in a minute; an' sometimes I know she bathed me awful careful, an' kep' coolin' my head, an' puttin' somethin' warm to one of my limbs that felt so cold an' little. Agin, I'd ben raised right straight up, an' come down jest as easy onto a nice, cool bed. She said when I asked her about it afterward, that one of them stood on each side of the bed, an' lifted me, an' another one rolled away that bed, an' put a fresh one in its place, an' then they laid me down agin.
They give me some medicine, an' milk, an' her kind of eggnog, an' sich coolin', nourishin' things till after the fever wus gone. That went on till one day I got to know what wus goin' on; an' a little at a time Sophy an' her mother (who she'd sent fur as soon as I was took, an' I hadn't knowed frum her) an' Baker an' Ben told me all about it. Baker's fever had broke two or three days after I got down, an' he wus purty well, tho weak, when I come to. It had ben four weeks sense I'd got supper that night, with the things a-swingin' so; an' Hannah had ben there all the time a-workin', her an' Sophy an' Ben.
Hannah's ben a widder ten year, an' she jest got Sophy an' another one, Belle, who wus goin' to school. She jest put her to a neighbor's to board, an' come. I'll never forgit it of her an' Sophy till I'm laid where I would ben if they hadn't done fur me.
While I wus sick, Sophy found out how it all happened; an' I thank the Lord he sent her to us, fur if we'd got up agin without her—which I'm mighty doubtful of—we'd a-kep' gettin' sick, time an' agin, like the other folks that lived here. We'd never thought nothin' of havin' garden stuff an' meat in the cellar right under where 'we lived, an' moved, an' had our bein's,' as it were; only to the old place 'twas under the part we didn't use much, so 'twa'n't quite so bad as the old one here. Why, there wus great cracks in that kitchen floor here, an' I'd kep' at Baker about 'em off an' on a long time, they looked so starey, an' let the water through so when I wus scrubbin'. But land! we never knowed that poison wus a-risin' off them things down there up through, an' makin' us sick, till Sophy told us. They hadn't kep' overly well neither, bein' shet up so tight. As soon as Sophy found out about 'em, she had Ben open the outside door an' tote every last thing outen there, an' they scraped an' swep' an' burnt disinfectin' stuff down there. There wus no walls or they'd a-whitewashed 'em, she said. Me a-stayin' in the house all the time over them things, wus why I wus sicker'n Baker.
Then agin the place the well wus, wus bad. The house is on a hill that slopes to the east towards the road, an' to the north towards the barn, which is on another knoll that slopes right over towards the house. Well, right between them hills is a holler, an' the fence between the two yards runs along in it, an' right by the fence wus the well, so as to water man an' beast, as it were. Ben says Sophy come mighty nigh a-faintin' when she learnt where he wus a-bringin' her water frum. As soon as she got breath agin, she asked, kind of pleadin'-like, if there wa'n't any to be got where 'twouldn't be percylated full of poison frum the barn-yard. Her color come back a little when he told her of the good spring of soft water on the fur side of the house hill, but she hardly took a good breath till she'd follered him away out there, clean across the stump patch to it, an' wus sure nothin' could poison it; an' he'd promised as solemn as an owl to tote it all frum there till we got some other way fixed.
THE HOUSE WHERE BAKER LIVED.
Well, the upshot of the hull thing wus that Sophy stayed all summer, an' helped us build an' fix so, as to keep well. Baker wouldn't hear to her goin' away, nor me neither, fur we didn't want to run no resks; an' we knowed she could tend to havin' things fixed right. She wrote to a big doctor, where she'd ben—Sammy Terryum, I guess—an' got a picture an' printin' of how to make a cistern with a filter into it, so we'd have good, pure water; an' another paper that read about cellars. If we had one under the house, to have a powerful tight floor over it, an' ventilate it right up the kitchen chimbly; but 'twas safest not to have one in under the house at all.
After all we'd ben through, Baker an' me, we thought we'd fix as safe as we could. So Ben dug a cellar northwest of the house a ways, an' we had it walled an' floored an' petitioned with brick an' cement, an' moved the old kitchen part onto it. I have what wus the kitchen fur a wood-shed an' milk-house too in the summer, when there's nothin' in the cellar, an' Baker has what wus our bedroom fur a bin.
Sophy took the carpet up in the front room, an' we lived in there while we wus buildin' an' fixin'. After they got the wall built fur the new house, they took an' filled the old cellar up with rocks, dry dirt, an' sand, as tight as if they'd growed there, an' made a mighty nice cistern jest like that picture, with a filter of sand an' gravel an' charcoal into it. It's on the back porch, an' s fixed so it kin easy be cleaned onct or twict a year. An' then they dug a good clean well fur the stock.
We built a nice big kitchen, an' a bedroom fur Baker an' me, an' a pantry that's big enough to have the stove in in the summer, an' let us have a cool kitchen to eat in, an' set. The bedroom an' pantry's north of the kitchen, which jines the front room; an' we put a long porch on the west, an' wus a-goin' to on the east too, but Sophy said Baker an' me'd look like purtaters growin' in a cellar if we didn't let the sunshine in; so we jest put a portico over the east door. There wus to be a east winder to the kitchen too, an' Sophy took a powerful notion fur it to be a bay-winder. 'Good land!' says I, 'a bay-winder onto a kitchen! You must be takin' the fever, you talk so wild.'
'But,' says she, 'you'll jest have one the sun shines in at, an' a bay-winder would let in so much more, an' make it so cheerful an' pleasant for you. I think kitchens, where housekeepers spend nearly all their lives, ought to be made as bright as any room in the house.' Well, I didn't see but what she wus right, so bay-winder it wus; fur we'd sold some woods over by Uncle Dan'ses along the crick, an' had a plenty to build an' fix as we wanted to, an' pay Sophy mighty handsome too, as fur as money kin pay sich as her.
It made a heap of difference on Baker an' me, her bein' here that summer. He give up smokin', an' we both quit tea an' coffee, because she made it so plain they wus hurtin' us; an' pork an' most kinds of pie an' pickles we don't eat neither no more. I wus a mighty good cook, if I do say it, tho I'm fur frum bein' the first one as has. I'd got the premiums on spice-cake, an' rusks, an' compone, an' jam, an' pickles, time an' agin at the Brush County fair; but I never paid no attention to whether they wus healthy or not. But that summer I buckled to, an' learned how to cook wholesome, healthy victuals without so much sweetenin' an' shortenin' an' stuff into 'em, outen a mighty nice cook-book Sophy'd brung with her. She says she's 'proud of her pupil,' but I never let on I wus. Baker goes round with his lip a-hangin' fur mince pie an' doughnuts yit sometimes, but I look at him powerful cold, an' say, 'Whenever I find a thing's a-hurtin' me or anybody else, I don't have nothin' to do with it.' An' then he gives a sigh clean frum down where he wants the pie, an' goes to readin' the Bean Blossom Globe. I feel mighty sorry fur him tho, an' alwus cook somethin' else that he's extra fond of, an' doesn't hurt him none. I do want coffee powerful bad when I think of it, but I never let on to Baker nor Priscilla Ann neither, no more'n I kin help; an' when I fall to eatin' things outen that book, I furgit all about it.
Baker's bile don't never take spells no more, an' my rheumatiz don't bother me much neither like it used to; an' Sophy says it won't as long as I eat what I ought to, an' wear them soft flannels cut by her pattern (only lots bigger), clean down to my heels.
We take a heap of comfort with that good cellar, an' pure soft water, an' the bay-winder. It's a mighty nice big one, an' I keep Goldie, the bird, hangin' up in it, an' he jest sings like he'd split his little yaller throat. I have some flower-pots, too, in it, on each side. Sophy said not to keep too many, an' cheat ourselves of the sunshine. I set there right smart, an' knit, an' cut apples fur dryin'; an' I've never ben sorry we had it made, nor neither has Baker, fur he sets there a heap too, readin' an' noddin'. Well, that's about all of it; anyway, I've got to take after that old hen turkey, fur I'll warrant she's got them young ones of hers trailed plum over to the rye field by this time.—Good Health.
