MacShaughnassy was staying with us at the time,
and on the Friday evening he mixed us a salad, according to a recipe
given him by his aunt. On the Saturday morning, everybody was, of
course, very ill. Everybody always is very ill after partaking of any
dish prepared by MacShaughnassy. Some people attempt to explain this
fact by talking glibly of "cause and effect." MacShaughnassy maintains
that it is simply coincidence.
"How do you know," he says, "that you wouldn't have been ill if you
hadn't eaten any? You're queer enough now, any one can see, and I'm very
sorry for you; but, for all that you can tell, if you hadn't eaten any of
that stuff you might have been very much worse--perhaps dead. In all
probability, it has saved your life." And for the rest of the day, he
assumes towards you the attitude of a man who has dragged you from the
grave.
The moment Jimmy arrived I seized hold of him.
"Jimmy," I said, "you must rush off to the chemist's immediately. Don't
stop for anything. Tell him to give you something for colic--the result
of vegetable poisoning. It must be something very strong, and enough for
four. Don't forget, something to counteract the effects of vegetable
poisoning. Hurry up, or it may be too late."
My excitement communicated itself to the boy.
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