Mr. Lavender who, on finding himself in bed, had once more fallen into a comatose condition, stirred, and some words fell from his lips. “Five in one, and one in five.”
“What does he say?” said Mrs. Petty, tucking him up.
“It's the odds against Candelabra for the Derby.”
“Only faith,” cried Mr. Lavender, “can multiply exceedingly.”
“Here, take them away!” muttered Mrs. Petty, and dealing the journals a smart slap, she handed them to Joe.
“Faith!” repeated Mr. Lavender, and fell into a doze.
“About this new disease,” said Joe. “D'you think it's ketchin'? I feel rather funny meself.”
“Stuff!” returned his wife. “Clear away those papers and that bone, and go and take Blink out, and sit on a seat; it's all you're fit for. Of all the happy-go-luckys you're the worst.”
“Well, I never could worry,” said Joe from the doorway; “'tisn't in me. So long!”
And, dragging Blink by the collar, he withdrew.