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Updated: June 12, 2025
"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, "and after 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.
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 ached with them. The doctor finished at last, and, fastening his bag, stood with his beard in his hand, pondering. He looked from the little, whitefaced woman on the bed to the bulky figure of Mr. Gribble.
He ate his breakfast slowly on the first of the month, and, the meal finished, took a seat in the window with his pipe and waited for the postman. Mrs. Gribble's timid reminders concerning the flight of time and consequent fines for lateness at work fell on deaf ears. He jumped up suddenly and met the postman at the door. "Has it come?" inquired Mrs. Gribble, extending her hand.
"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 let that heart of hers get excited." He shook hands with the petrified Mr. Gribble and went off, grinning wickedly. He had few favourites, and Mr. Gribble was not one of them.
After five coughs she said she thought 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 cough mixture when I go out. What about a lay-down on the sofa?" His wife thanked him, and, reaching the sofa, watched with half-closed eyes as he cleared the breakfast-table.
"Tuesday week; first of May," replied his wife. "The lawyers are going to send it by registered letter." Mr. Gribble grunted. "I shall be sorry to leave the house for some things," said his wife, looking round. "We've been here a good many years now, Henry." "Leave the house!" repeated Mr. Gribble, putting down his tea-cup and staring at her. "Leave the house! What are you talking about?"
"I wasn't thinking of him," said Mrs. Gribble, trying to speak bravely. "I was thinking of " "Well, you ought to be," interrupted her husband. "He wasn't my uncle, poor chap, but I've been thinking of him, off and on, all day. That bloater-paste you are eating now came from his kindness. I brought it home as a treat." "I was thinking of my clothes," said Mrs.
The English men-of-war went up the river as far as the Bogue forts, which they threatened to bombard unless he was released; and, after considerable discussion, Mr. Gribble was set free, mainly because the Chinese heard of the large force that was on its way from England. Before that armament arrived the Emperor Taoukwang had committed himself still further to a policy of hostility.
After five coughs she said she thought 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 cough mixture when I go out. What about a lay-down on the sofa?" His wife thanked him, and, reaching the sofa, watched with half-closed eyes as he cleared the breakfast-table.
Gribble, forgetting himself. "Two hun Go and get my tea! If you think you're going to give yourself airs because your uncle's left you money, you won't do it in my house." He took a chair by the window, and, while his wife busied herself in the kitchen, sat gazing in blank delight at the little street. Two hundred a year!
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