sixpence. One evening, after work, Sally prudently drew the curtain in her kitchen against prying eyes, and set about making the paste.
It smelt terrible and looked worse. It was yellowish-grey in colour, and speckled abominably with the ground herbs. Sally felt that she could not bring herself to taste it that evening, but would hope for strength in the morning. She retired to bed, with the reek of the concoction still in her nostrils.
It looked singularly unattractive by morning light, but after breakfast Sally put the tip of a spoon into the jar and bravely swallowed a morsel.
'I must do as it says and partake sparingly,' she told herself as she washed the spoon.
All that week she continued with the treatment. There seemed to be no result, but Sally was patient, and in any case expected to wait some weeks before her bulk began to diminish. Sometimes she felt a slight giddiness a few minutes after swallowing the stuff, but when one considered the nature of the ingredients this was hardly surprising.
One morning she decided to take a slightly larger dose. The clock on the mantel shelf told her it was later than usual, so that she flung the spoon in the washing-up bowl and set off at a brisk trot to the big house at the end of the village. She was perturbed to find that her gait was impaired. It seemed almost impossible to keep her heels on the ground, and Sally found herself tripping along on her toes, scarcely touching the ground at all. At the same time the giddiness occurred with some strength.
'Very strong stuff' thought Sally to herself. 'Small wonder one's bid to partake sparingly!'
She took care to reduce the dose during the next week or two. By now it was high summer. Plumes of scented meadowsweet tossed by the roadside, and the bright small birds kept up a gay clamour as they flashed from hedge to meadow and meadow to garden. Sally tried on her summer print gowns with growing despair. They were as tight as ever. Buttons burst from the strained bodices and waistbands gaped as Sally strove in vain to ram her bulk into the protesting garments.
'Dratted stuff!' panted Sally. 'Never done me a 'aporth of good!' She surveyed herself in the small mirror which she had tilted forward in order to get a better view of her figure. Exasperation flooded her bulky frame. It was no good. She would simply have to make new dresses. These had been let out to their furthest limit.
She struggled out of the useless frocks, dressed in her former gown, and went sadly downstairs. The offending pot stood on the kitchen shelf.
'For two pins,' exclaimed Sally aloud, 'I'd throw you where you belongs—out on the rubbish heap!'
She was about to bustle about her household chores, when a thought struck her.
'Maybe I ain't been taking quite enough,' thought Sally. 'It's worth trying.'
Today was the perfect day to make an experiment. It was Sunday, and she need not go out anywhere. If a giddy attack followed die taking of too much medicine, then she could simply lie down until she recovered.
'And if it do make me giddy, but it works, then 'twill be worth it,' said Sally aloud. 'I can always take it at nights afore going to bed and sleep the giddiness off afore morning.'
She took a large spoon, dipped it deeply into the reeking mixture, and bravely downed it.
For a moment, nothing happened, apart from a slight feeling of nausea which taking the stuff habitually gave her. And then, to Sally's horror and alarm, her feet left the ground and she began to rise steadily to the ceiling. She bumped her head against the central rafter with some violence, and was about to scream loudly with combined pain and terror, when prudence checked her.
'A fine thing if the neighbours saw you now,' she told herself severely. 'Look a proper fool, you would.' She tried to quieten her panicky heart; and the fear of ridicule, as well as being suspected of witchcraft, helped to keep her tongue silent.
It was uncomfortable and strange bobbing loosely about the
It smelt terrible and looked worse. It was yellowish-grey in colour, and speckled abominably with the ground herbs. Sally felt that she could not bring herself to taste it that evening, but would hope for strength in the morning. She retired to bed, with the reek of the concoction still in her nostrils.
It looked singularly unattractive by morning light, but after breakfast Sally put the tip of a spoon into the jar and bravely swallowed a morsel.
'I must do as it says and partake sparingly,' she told herself as she washed the spoon.
All that week she continued with the treatment. There seemed to be no result, but Sally was patient, and in any case expected to wait some weeks before her bulk began to diminish. Sometimes she felt a slight giddiness a few minutes after swallowing the stuff, but when one considered the nature of the ingredients this was hardly surprising.
One morning she decided to take a slightly larger dose. The clock on the mantel shelf told her it was later than usual, so that she flung the spoon in the washing-up bowl and set off at a brisk trot to the big house at the end of the village. She was perturbed to find that her gait was impaired. It seemed almost impossible to keep her heels on the ground, and Sally found herself tripping along on her toes, scarcely touching the ground at all. At the same time the giddiness occurred with some strength.
'Very strong stuff' thought Sally to herself. 'Small wonder one's bid to partake sparingly!'
She took care to reduce the dose during the next week or two. By now it was high summer. Plumes of scented meadowsweet tossed by the roadside, and the bright small birds kept up a gay clamour as they flashed from hedge to meadow and meadow to garden. Sally tried on her summer print gowns with growing despair. They were as tight as ever. Buttons burst from the strained bodices and waistbands gaped as Sally strove in vain to ram her bulk into the protesting garments.
'Dratted stuff!' panted Sally. 'Never done me a 'aporth of good!' She surveyed herself in the small mirror which she had tilted forward in order to get a better view of her figure. Exasperation flooded her bulky frame. It was no good. She would simply have to make new dresses. These had been let out to their furthest limit.
She struggled out of the useless frocks, dressed in her former gown, and went sadly downstairs. The offending pot stood on the kitchen shelf.
'For two pins,' exclaimed Sally aloud, 'I'd throw you where you belongs—out on the rubbish heap!'
She was about to bustle about her household chores, when a thought struck her.
'Maybe I ain't been taking quite enough,' thought Sally. 'It's worth trying.'
Today was the perfect day to make an experiment. It was Sunday, and she need not go out anywhere. If a giddy attack followed die taking of too much medicine, then she could simply lie down until she recovered.
'And if it do make me giddy, but it works, then 'twill be worth it,' said Sally aloud. 'I can always take it at nights afore going to bed and sleep the giddiness off afore morning.'
She took a large spoon, dipped it deeply into the reeking mixture, and bravely downed it.
For a moment, nothing happened, apart from a slight feeling of nausea which taking the stuff habitually gave her. And then, to Sally's horror and alarm, her feet left the ground and she began to rise steadily to the ceiling. She bumped her head against the central rafter with some violence, and was about to scream loudly with combined pain and terror, when prudence checked her.
'A fine thing if the neighbours saw you now,' she told herself severely. 'Look a proper fool, you would.' She tried to quieten her panicky heart; and the fear of ridicule, as well as being suspected of witchcraft, helped to keep her tongue silent.
It was uncomfortable and strange bobbing loosely about the
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