``Your throat seems to be better to-day,'' said she to
Mildred at breakfast. ``Those simple house-remedies
I tried on you last night seem to have done some good.
Nothing like heat--hot water--and no eating. The
main thing was doing without dinner last night.''
``My nerves are quieter,'' advanced Mildred as the
likelier explanation of the return of the soul of music to
its seat. ``And my mind's at rest.''
``Yes, that's good,'' said plain Agnes Belloc. ``But
getting the stomach straight and keeping it straight's
the main thing. My old grandmother could eat anything
and do anything. I've seen her put in a glass of
milk or a saucer of ice-cream on top of a tomato-salad.
The way she kept well was, whenever she began to feel
the least bit off, she stopped eating. Not a bite would
she touch till she felt well again.''
Mildred, moved by an impulse stronger than her
inclination, produced the Keith paper. ``I wish you'd
read this, and tell me what you think of it. You've
got so much common sense.
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