Hay fever
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* A.A. Milne

“Try this. The chemist says it's the best hay-fever cure there is.”

“It's in a lot of languages,” I said as I took the wrapper off. “I suppose German hay is the same as any other sort of hay? Oh, here it is in English. I say this is a what-d'-you-call-it cure.”

“So the man said.”

“Homœopathic. It's made from the pollen that causes hay-fever. Yes. Ah, yes.” I coughed, slightly, and looked at Beatrice out of the corner of my eye. “I suppose,” I said, carelessly, “if anybody took this who *hadn't* got hay-fever, the results might be rather — I mean that he might then find that he — in fact, er — *had* got it.”

“Sure to,” said Beatrice.

“Yes. That makes us a little thoughtful; we don't want to over-do this thing.” I went on reading the instructions. “You know, it's rather odd about my hay-fever — it's generally worse in town than in the country.”

“But then you started so late, dear. You haven't really got into the swing of it yet.”

“Yes, but still — you know, I have my doubts about the gentleman who invented this. We don't see eye to eye in this matter, Beatrice, you may be right — perhaps I haven't got hay-fever.”

“Oh, don't give up.”

“But all the same I know I've got something. It's a funny thing about my being worse in town than in the country. That looks rather as if — By Jove, I know what it is — I've got just the opposite of hay-fever.”

“What is the opposite of hay?”

“Why, bricks and things.”

I gave a last sneeze and began to wrap up the cure.

“Take this pollen stuff back,” I said to Beatrice, “and ask the man if he's got anything homœopathic made from paving-stones. Because, you know, that's what I really want.”

“You *have* got a cold,” said Beatrice.

From A.A. Milne, “A Summer Cold.” In: The Holiday Round, London: Methuen; 1912.