“And, you see, I must take care of myself now for the sake of my husband,” 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 all right,” she objected; “and at the same time you wouldn’t know how I feel.”

“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 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.

“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.  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?”

“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.

For two days the devoted husband did the housework and waited on the invalid.  Then he wearied, and, at his wife’s suggestion, a small girl was engaged as servant.  She did most of the nursing as well, and, having a great love for the sensational, took a grave view of her mistress’s condition.

It was a relief to Mr. Gribble when his wife came downstairs again, and he was cheered to see that she looked much better.  His satisfaction was so marked that it brought on her cough again.

“It’s this house, I think,” she said, with a resigned smile.  “It never did agree with me.