Aunt Jane's Nieces at Work
Yet Dr. Hoyt spoke
rather doubtfully of the case in hand.
"These cases are not so rare as you might suppose," he said; "yet no two
of them are exactly alike. Usually the recovery is slow and tedious; but
recovery is not always assured. In some instances, however, the memory
is absolutely restored, and from what Mr. Burke has explained to me of
Lucy Rogers's history this is what we may expect now. Or else, we must
trust to time or an accident to awaken her dormant mental faculties. The
case is so interesting that I should like, with your permission, to make
an experiment which can result in no harm if it does not succeed."
"We put the matter entirely in your hands, sir," said Uncle John. "Act
as you think best."
"I thank you," replied Dr. Hoyt, bowing. Then he turned to the girls.
"Which of you young ladies has won the friendship of Lucy Rogers?" he
asked.
Louise answered that she and Eliza Parsons had become good friends.
"Will you assist me?" asked the physician.
"Willingly, sir."
"I wish to send the girl into a deep sleep, to render her unconscious
without her suspecting my intention, or realizing the fact. Can you
suggest a way to do this?"
Louise tried to think.
"What means will you employ, sir?" she asked.
"There are many ways to accomplish this. I prefer to administer a
powerful sleeping potion. Have you any confectionery or bon-bons at
hand?"
"Yes, indeed. I have just received a fresh box of bon-bons from New
York. But I'm not sure I can induce Eliza to eat candy."
"Then let us prepare the potion in various ways. But you must be
careful, Miss Merrick, not to make a mistake and take the dose
yourself."
Louise laughed.
"I'll be careful, sir," she promised.
The two then retired to perfect their plan, and in an hour every
arrangement was complete.
Louise went to her room, donned a wrapper, and bandaged her head. Then
she summoned Martha and asked the housekeeper to send Eliza Parsons to
sit with her in the darkened room, as she was suffering from a headache.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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