When he heard about the bed on the couch, he looked the surprise he felt. Mrs. Bindle never allowed him even to sit on it. He resolutely vetoed the bed, however. He was going to sit up and "try an' bring 'er round," as he expressed it.
"Is she goin' to die, Martha?" he interrogated anxiously. That question seemed to obsess his thoughts.
Mrs. Hearty shook her head and beat her breast. She lacked the necessary oxygen to reply more explicitly.
Having conducted Mrs. Hearty to the garden gate, he returned, closed and bolted the door, and proceeded upstairs. As he entered the bedroom, he was greeted by a harsh, bronchial cough that terrified him.
"Feelin' better, Lizzie?" he enquired, with all the forced optimism of a man obviously anxious.
Mrs. Bindle opened her eyes, looked at him for a moment, then, closing them again, shook her head.
"'As 'e sent you any physic?" he enquired.
Again Mrs. Bindle shook her head, this time without opening her eyes.
Bindle's heart sank. If the doctor didn't see the necessity for medicine, the case must indeed be desperate.
"What did he say, Joe?" she enquired in a hoarse voice.