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.
"Well, you've lived in it a good many years," said her husband,
controlling himself with difficulty.
"It's rather dark and small," said Mrs. 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 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.
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