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Updated: June 12, 2025
"You had better lie up for a week," he said, decidedly. "The rest will do you good." "Nothing serious, I s'pose?" said Mr. Gribble, as he led the way downstairs to the small parlour. "She ought to be all right with care," was the reply. "Care?" repeated the other, distastefully. "What's the matter with her?" "She's not very strong," said the doctor; "and hearts don't improve with age, you know.
Gribble went on with his meal. The double-knocks down the road came nearer and nearer, and Mr. Gribble, wiping his mouth, sat upright with an air of alert and pleased interest. Rapid steps came to the front door, and a double bang followed. "Always punctual," said Mr. Gribble, good-humouredly.
Gribble. "Not but what it is good enough for me. And I dare say it will last my time." "Nonsense!" said her husband, gruffly. "You want to get out a bit more. You've got nothing to do now we are wasting all this money on a servant. Why don't you go out for little walks?" Mrs. Gribble went, after several promptings, and the fruit of one of them was handed by the postman to Mr.
Gribble made no requests for new clothes or change 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 this unusual display of interest, coughed again. "Is it your throat or your chest?" he inquired, gruffly. Mrs. Gribble coughed again to see.
Gribble, in trembling tones. "That'll do," said Mr. Gribble, decidedly. "That'll do. One o' these days you'll go too far. You start throwing that money in my teeth and see what happens. I've done my best for you all these years, and there's no reason to suppose I sha'n't go on doing so. What did you say? What!" Mrs. Gribble turned to him a face rendered ghastly by terror.
Under favourable conditions she's good for some years yet. The great thing is never to thwart her. Let her have her own way in 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?"
Gribble a few days afterwards. Half-choking with wrath and astonishment, he stood over his trembling wife with the first draper's bill he had ever received. "One pound two shillings and threepence three-farthings!" he recited. "It must be a mistake. It must be for somebody else." Mrs. Gribble, with her hand to her heart, tottered to the sofa and lay there with her eyes closed.
It was all he could do to resume his wonted expression as his wife re-entered the room and began to lay the table. His manner, however, when she let a cup and saucer slip from her trembling fingers to smash on the floor left nothing to be desired. "It's nice to have money come to us in our old age," said Mrs. Gribble, timidly, as they sat at tea. "It takes a load off my mind."
"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.
For instance, we may quote her outburst with regard to unhappy marriages. "It was the subject," says Mr. Gribble, "on which she had begun to think before she was married, and which continued to haunt her long after she was left a widow; though one suspects that the word 'marriage' became a form of speech employed to describe her relations, not with her husband, but with her lovers."
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