"Well, but," quo' I, "'tis Poison."
"Aye, and Medicine too," returns _Gammer_. "I wonder what we poor Souls
might come to, if we tooke Nowt for our Ails and Aches but what we
could buy o' the Potticary. We've got noe Dr. _Clement_, we poor Folks,
to be our Leech o' the Household."
"But hast no Feare," quo' I, "of an Over-dose?"
"There's manie a Doctor," sayth she, with an unpleasant Leer, "that
hath given that at first. In Time he gets his Hand in; and I've had a
Plenty o' Practice--Thanks to Self and Sister."
"I knew not," quoth I, "that thou hadst a Sister."
"How should ye, Mistress," returns she shortlie, "when ye never comes
nigh us? We've grubbed on together this many a Year."
"'Tis soe far," I returned, half ashamed.
"Why, soe it be," answers _Gammer_; "far from Neighbours, far from
Church, and far from Priest; howbeit, my old Legs carries me to _your_
House o' Fridays; but I know not whether I shall e'er come agayn--the
Rye Bread was soe hard last Time; it may serve for young Teeth, and
for them as has got none; but mine, you see, are onlie on the _goe_;"
and she opened her Mouth with a ghastly Smile. "'Tis not," she added,
"that I'm ungratefulle; but thou sees, Mistress, I really _can't_ eat
Crusts."