"Now never you mind! Never you mind!" he repeated. "Everybody turn a deaf
ear! That was a slip! Nobody heard it! You mean Little Butterfly White,
'rub hard.' Say rub hard and that will fix it!"
"Mickey," she said in a faint voice so subdued and contrite as to be
ridiculous, "Mickey-lovest, won't you please to rub hard! Rub jus' as
hard!"
Mickey suddenly bent to kiss the bony little foot he was chafing.
"Yes darling, I'll rub 'til it a-most bleeds," he said.
When the feet were glowing with alternate sand-rubbing and splashing in
cold water, Peter looked at his wife.
"I think that's the ticket!" he said. "Nancy, don't you? That pulls down
the blood with rubbing, and drives it back with cold water, and pulls it
down, to be pushed back again--ain't that helping the heart get in its
work? Now if we strengthen her with right food, and make lots of pure
blood to run in these little blue canals on her temples, and hands and
feet, ain't we gaining ground? Ain't we making headway?"
"We've just got to be," said Mrs.
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