man."
He shook his head again and gazed mistily at his wife.
"He was a teetotaller," she remarked, casually.
"He was tee-toiler," repeated Mr. Gribble, regarding her equably. "Goodman. Uncle George dead-tee-toller."
Mrs. Gribble gathered up her work and began to put it away.
"Bed-time," said Mr. Gribble, and led the way upstairs, singing.
His good-humour had evaporated by the morning, and, having made a lightbreakfast of five cups of tea, he went off, with lagging steps, to work.It was a beautiful spring morning, and the idea of a man with twohundred a year and a headache going off to a warehouse instead of aday's outing seemed to border upon the absurd. What use was moneywithout freedom? His toil was sweetened that day by the knowledge thathe could drop it any time he liked and walk out, a free man, into thesunlight.
By the end of a week his mind was made up. Each day that passed madehis hurried uprising and scrambled breakfast more and more irksome; andon Monday morning, with hands in trouser-pockets and legs stretched out,he leaned back in his chair and received his wife's alarming intimationsas to the flight of time with a superior and sphinx-like smile.
"It's too fine to go to work to-day," he said, lazily. "Come to that,any day is too fine to waste at work."
Mrs. Gribble sat gasping at him.
"So on Saturday I gave 'em a week's notice," continued her husband, "andafter Potts and Co. had listened while I told 'em what I thought of 'em,they said they'd do without the week's notice."
"You've never given up your job?" said Mrs. Gribble.
"I spoke to old Potts as one gentleman of independent means to another,"said Mr. Gribble, smiling. "Thirty-five bob a week after twenty years'service! And he had the cheek to tell me I wasn't worth that. When Itold him what he was worth he talked about sending for the police. Whatare you looking like that for? I've worked hard for you for thirtyyears, and I've had enough of it. Now it's your turn."
"You'd find it hard to get another place at your age," said his wife;"especially if they wouldn't give you a good character."
"Place!" said the other, staring. "Place! I tell you I've done withwork. For a man o' my means to go on working for thirty-five bob a weekis ridiculous."
"But suppose anything happened to me," said his wife, in a troubledvoice.
"That's not very likely," said Mr. Gribble.
"You're tough enough. And if it did your money would come to me."
Mrs. Gribble shook her head.
"WHAT?" roared her husband, jumping up.
"I've only got it for life, Henry, as I told you," said Mrs. Gribble, inalarm. "I thought you knew it would stop when I died."
"And what's to become of me if anything happens to you, then?" demandedthe dismayed Mr. Gribble. "What am I to do?"
Mrs. Gribble put her handkerchief to her eyes.
"And don't start weakening your constitution by crying," shouted theincensed husband.
"What are you mumbling?"
"I sa--sa--said, let's hope--you'll go first," sobbed his wife. "Thenit will be all right."
Mr. Gribble opened his mouth, and then, realizing the inadequacy of theEnglish language for moments of stress, closed it again. He broke hissilence at last in favour of Uncle George.
"Mind you," he said, concluding a peroration which his wife listened towith her fingers in her ears--"mind you, I reckon I've been absolutelydone by you and your precious Uncle George. I've given up a goodsituation, and now, any time you fancy to go off the hooks, I'm to beturned into the street."
"I'll try and live, for your sake, Henry," said his wife.
"Think of my worry every time you are ill," pursued the indignant Mr.Gribble.
Mrs. Gribble sighed, and her husband, after a few further remarksconcerning Uncle George, his past and his future, announced hisintention of going to the lawyers and seeing whether anything could bedone. He came back in a state of voiceless gloom, and spent the rest ofa beautiful day indoors, smoking a pipe which had lost much of itsflavour, and regarding with a critical and anxious eye the small, weedyfigure of his wife as she went about her work.
The second month's payment went into his pocket as a matter of course,but on this occasion Mrs. Gribble made no requests for new clothes orchange of residence. A little nervous cough was her sole comment.
"Got a cold?" inquired her husband, starting.
"I don't think so," replied his wife, and, surprised and touched at thisunusual display of interest, coughed again.
"Is it your throat or your chest?" he inquired, gruffly.
Mrs. Gribble coughed again to see. After five coughs she said shethought it was her chest.
"You'd better not go out o' doors to-day, then," said Mr. Gribble."Don't stand about in draughts; and I'll fetch you in a bottle of coughmixture when I go out. What about a lay-down on the sofa?"
His wife thanked him, and, reaching the sofa, watched with half-closedeyes as he cleared the breakfast-table. It was the first time he haddone such a thing in his life, and a little honest pride in thepossession of such a cough would not be denied. Dim possibilities ofits vast usefulness suddenly occurred to her.
She took the cough mixture for a week, by which time other symptoms,extremely disquieting to an ease-loving man, had manifested themselves.Going upstairs deprived her of breath; carrying a loaded tea-trayproduced a long and alarming stitch in the side. The last time she everfilled the coal-scuttle she was discovered sitting beside it on thefloor in a state of collapse.
"You'd better go and see the doctor," said Mr. Gribble.
Mrs. Gribble went. Years before the doctor had told her that she oughtto take life easier, and she was now able to tell him she was preparedto take his advice.
"And, you see, I must take care of myself now for the sake of myhusband," she said, after she had explained matters.
"I understand," said the doctor.
"If anything happened to me--" began the patient.
"Nothing shall happen," said the other. "Stay in bed to-morrow morning,and I'll come round and overhaul you."
Mrs. Gribble hesitated. "You might examine me and think I was allright," she objected; "and at the same time you wouldn't know how Ifeel."
"I know just how you feel," was the reply. "Good-bye."
He came round the following morning and, following the dejected Mr.Gribble upstairs, made a long and thorough investigation of his patient.
"Say 'ninety-nine,'" he said, adjusting his stethoscope.
Mrs. Gribble ticked off "ninety-nines" until her husband's ears achedwith them. The doctor finished at last, and, fastening his bag, stoodwith his beard in his hand, pondering. He looked from the little,whitefaced woman on the bed to the bulky figure of Mr. Gribble.
"You had better lie up for a week," he said, decidedly. "The rest willdo you good."
"Nothing serious, I s'pose?" said Mr. Gribble, as he led the waydownstairs to the small parlour.
"She ought to be all right with care," was the reply.
"Care?" repeated the other, distastefully. "What's the matter withher?"
"She's not very strong," said the doctor; "and hearts don't improve withage, you know. Under favourable conditions she's good for some yearsyet. The great thing is never to thwart her. Let her have her own wayin everything."
"Own way in everything?" repeated the dumbfounded Mr. Gribble.
The doctor nodded. "Never let her worry about anything," he continued;"and, above all, never find fault with her."
"Not," said Mr. Gribble, thickly--"not even for her own good?"
"Unless you want to run the risk of losing her."
Mr. Gribble shivered.
"Let her have an easy time," said the doctor, taking up his hat."Pamper her a bit if you like; it won't hurt her. Above all, don't letthat heart of hers get excited."
He shook hands with the petrified Mr. Gribble and went off, grinningwickedly. He had few favourites, and Mr. Gribble was not one of them.
For two days the devoted husband did the housework and waited on theinvalid. Then he wearied, and, at his wife's suggestion, a small girlwas engaged as servant. She did most of the nursing as well, and,having a great love for the sensational, took a grave view of hermistress's condition.
It was a relief to Mr. Gribble when his wife came downstairs again, andhe was cheered to see that she looked much better. His satisfaction wasso