The Higher Altruism
“Good morning to you, apothecary. Tell me now, do you know of aught that’s good for headache day?”
“My lad, it is a sore complaint that; one of the worst of ills that flesh is heir to. Well, sit you down a bit. Are you from the manor?”
“Yes, sir; I’m one of the farm-servants there.”
“And do the headache days come often?”
“Well, no, but when they do they come bad.”
“We’ll soon manage them, my lad. Come here now, and first shut both your eyes. There, that is right. Now, quick; smell of this bottle as hard as e’er you can.”
The fellow did precisely as he said. First shut his eyes and smelled right heartily of what was in the bottle; and with a heavy thud he fell from off his chair. And as he was beginning to come to, says the apothecary, “Now, my lad, tell me is your headache day now gone?”
“Oh, sir, it’s not of me that I was talking. It’s our young lady has her headache day.”
Fritz Reuter.