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-tray produced a long and alarming stitch in the side.  The last time she ever filled the coal-scuttle she was discovered sitting beside it on the floor 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 ought to take life easier, and she was now able to tell him she was prepared to take his advice.

“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.