'Ah! madame,' she sobbed to Mrs. Mavor, 'my heart is broke for him. He's
heet noting for tree days, but jis dreenk, dreenk, dreenk.'
The next day a man came for me in haste. The baby was dying and the
doctor was drunk. I found the little one in a convulsion lying across
Mrs. Mavor's knees, the mother kneeling beside it, wringing her hands in
a dumb agony, and Slavin standing near, silent and suffering. I glanced
at the bottle of medicine upon the table and asked Mrs. Mavor the dose,
and found the baby had been poisoned. My look of horror told Slavin
something was wrong, and striding to me he caught my arm and asked--
'What is it? Is the medicine wrong?'
I tried to put him off, but his grip tightened till his fingers seemed
to reach the bone.
'The dose is certainly too large; but let me go, I must do something.'
He let me go at once, saying in a voice that made my heart sore for him,
'He has killed my baby; he has killed my baby.' And then he cursed the
doctor with awful curses, and with a look of such murderous fury on his
face that I was glad the doctor was too drunk to appear.
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