And all at once she saw Aunt Petherick-the blackest mourner there, with crape veils trailing to the ground, a red face down which the tears streamed in rivers; sobbing so that the sobs sounded like the most violent Hiccoughs; really almost as much noise as the soldiers' gun.
"The Devil's Garden"
W. B. Maxwell
The bottle was handed over, and the rare old scoundrel helped himself to a full glass of its contents, drinking as deliberately as he had talked, apparently taking nine big swallows without breathing, at the same time thinking of the one he loved the best, as a means of curing the Hiccoughs.
"The Mystery of the Locks"
Edgar Watson Howe