"Hot enough?" he enquired.
"Quite!" answered Ravenslee.
"Goin' to be hotter."
"Afraid so."
"Rough on th' kiddies, an' ice goin' up. Which reminds me I sent on the mixture you ordered for little Hazel Bowker."
"Good," nodded Ravenslee.
"And the pills to Mrs. Sims."
"Good again."
"An' the sleeping-draught for old Martin Finlay."
"Good once more."