Darke Darrell, the Boy Detective — page 15: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

6 DARKE DARRELL. rags, owing to his own pride of person, and the thriftiness of his mother, invalid though she was. He had in his hands an empty bottle, which he placed on the shelf where a clock stood and ticked, ere they had been forced to send it to the pawnbroker’s. ‘‘ Darke, give me the medicine and a spoon,” reaching out her wasted hand, her voice low and weak. He stood heavily on his heels, and looked at his mother, his hands behind his back, his face growing more sullen. ‘‘T didn’t bring the medicine, mother.” «Why not, Darke?” with a faint intonation of surprise. “The druggist wouldn’t trust. He. says we have got enough of medicine in that way.” : Mrs. Darrell leaned back in her chair and sighed. ‘The stingy old skinflint!” exclaimed Darke, with sup- pressed fierceness. ‘‘ I was tempted to smash the spectacles over his nose.” ‘““ Darke!” sharply, reprovingly. ‘‘Wedo owe him, and it is not likely we’ll ever be able to pay him. It was kind in him to oblige us as often as he did.” “Oh, it wouldn’t have broke him to have filled the bottle again,” growled Darke. ‘* And the medicine was doing you so much good.” ‘‘I believe that it 2s helping me,” replied the invalid, her eyes on the sullen face of her son. ‘‘ Did you try else- where?” ‘‘T’d have been refused, mother. ‘Then, too, I hadn’t the prescription.” “‘Sure enough, Darke,” trying to forget her disappoint- ment. ‘‘ We'll get a copy of it, or ask Doctor Thorne to write us another.” ‘< Five pounds of lead pipe would have paid for the medi- - cine,” observed the boy. 199 “* Lead pipe!” repeated his mother, a little dazedly. _ “Yes,” growlingly. ‘‘That’s the way Jeff Potter keeps Gomichbooks.€o