He is a big, raw-boned man with a plain, honest face, and I did not beat around the bush with him. “Do you object to your daughter being under the same roof as an Indian, Mr. Munger?” “I got nothing against Injuns, and Molly don’t neither, Miss Bell. Fact is, she was enjoying her proximity to one and the attention that got her from curious town folk. But now she has taken to her bed, and there ain’t no budging her out of it.” “What ails her?” Mr. Munger shrugged his massive shoulders. “She went out for a stroll Tuesday evening and come back looking mighty down. Took to bed, like I said, and there she remains.” “Perhaps Dr. Adam should look at her,” I said. “I suggested just that, but Mrs. Munger does not wish it,” Mr. Munger said. “She reckons our Molly’s indisposition is minor and will pass shortly.” Let us hope so, for I am left with a persnickety cookstove and three men to feed. Fortunately, two are convalescents with meager appetites, and the healthy one has his Granny Tuttle and her doting ward to cook for him whensoever he wishes.
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