Belles on their Toes

mean, no thank you. It was mighty good, but that was plenty."
    "Tomorrow, then," said Tom, as he departed for the kitchen to mix Anne's dose.
    "I never had so much castor oil in my life," Ernestine whispered to Anne. "The old idiot must think I'm as irregular as a French verb."
    "If you don't mind," Anne pleaded, "please keep quiet until I've had mine. My heart bleeds for you, but please hold your oily tongue."
    Anne, Martha, and finally Frank all faced up to their responsibilities by taking their medicine and managing to smack their lips and say it was good. But when Tom came to Bill the era of cooperation ended.
    In the first place, Bill wouldn't wake up, and the more Tom shook him, the louder he snored.
    "I never seen such a sound sleeper," said Tom, deciding it was time for psychology. "Well, if I can't wake him for his castor oil, I'd better do the next best thing."
    Bill's snores shook the bedroom.
    "Does anyone," said Tom, "know where the hot water bag is?"
    Bill thought he knew what that meant. He rolled over and opened an eye.
    "Where am I?" he asked sleepily. "What time is it?"
    "It's time," said Tom, shoving a glass in Bill's face, "to drink this."
    "What is it?" Bill asked, stalling as long as possible.
    "You know what it is," hollered Tom, whose patience was becoming exhausted. "Now swalley it."
    "I don't like it."
    "How do you know you don't like it, when you ain't tasted it?"
    "I've tasted it before. It tastes nasty."
    "Look," Tom said deliberately. "Ast Anne. Ast Ernestine. Ast Martha. Ast Frank. It's good. It's delicious."
    "I know them. They're just setting good examples."
    Tom now played his hole card.
    "Look," he purred, "I've got another glass just like this one, out in the hall. If you be a good boy and drink this, I'll drink that—just to show you how good it is."
    By now all of the younger boys were frankly awake, and watching. Bill considered the offer carefully.
    "How do I know," he asked suspiciously, "that there's castor oil in the other glass?"
    "You can take my word for it, can't you?" Tom was shouting again.
    "I don't think so."
    "Call me a liar, then," said Tom. "Call me a liar."
    He went to the hall and came back holding a glass in each hand.
    "Take your choice. If that ain't fair, I don't know what is."
    "When I take mine, will you drink a glass with me?" Fred asked.
    "Sure," said Tom. "It's delicious. Ast Anne."
    "How about me?" Dan wanted to know.
    "Certainly."
    "And me?" said Jack.
    "Me, too," Lillian shouted from the girls' ward.
    "Everybody," Tom agreed. "All hands and the cook."
    Bill examined the glasses closely, and the girls came in to watch him make his choice. The glasses contained the same amount of orange juice, but there was one very obvious difference. On the surface of the juice in one glass were only a few bubbles of oil. On the surface of the other floated almost a half-inch of solid oil.
    "I'll take this one," said Bill, pointing to the glass with a few bubbles.
    "You're sure you want that one?" Tom asked innocently. "I don't see no difference."
    "Don't try to wiggle out of it," said Bill. "That's the one I want."
    He was about to take the glass, when he looked up and saw Ernestine just barely shake her head.
    "Sure you don't want to change your mind?" said Toni, obviously pleased with the way things were going.
    "Okay," said Bill, "you talked me into it. I'll change my mind."

    He grabbed the glass with all the oil on top.
    ''Hey, wait a minute," Tom protested, and there was genuine terror in his voice. "You don’t want that one. If you look dost, you can see it's loaded with oil. Here's the one you want."
    But it was too late. Bill drank orange juice and salad oil.
    "Delirious," he grinned. "Positively delicious."
    Tom looked with distaste at the glass he was holding. He managed a smile, but it was a weak one.
    "Good boy, Bill," he muttered finally.
    "Am I in the Club for drinking my medicine, Tom?"
    "I guess so."
    "For a thousand years and four days?"
    Tom nodded glumly.
    "Are you going to drink yours now, Tom?"
    He nodded again.
    "And are you going to drink a glass with Lillian, Fred, Dan, Jack, Bob and Jane, like you promised?"
    Tom looked around him. The girl's were biting their lips to keep from laughing. Frank had buried his head in his pillow.
    "Drink it," said Bill.
    "It's delicious," said Ernestine. "Ast Anne."
    If looks could have killed, the Princess's body would have been in an advanced stage of rigor mortis.
    "Ast Ernestine," said Martha.
    "Ast