Her husband, after reflecting for a moment or two, replied that it was just “all-overishness,” and that he thought a rest would do him good.
“Dear!” exclaimed Mrs Frisby, “but I haven’t a drop of water in the house. Who’s to fill the bucket at the well?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to do it, Sally,” returned Jim. “’Tis very unfortunate—very, I’m sure, but I can’t think how else it is to be managed.”
“Well, I’m not going to do it, then,” cried Sally. “I never heerd of such a thing! You great lazy fellow, lying in bed with nothing the matter with ye.”
“I tell you,” repeated Jim, “I’m all-overish, same as you be so often. My heart don’t feel quite right neither. If ye was to bring me up a cup of tea, same as I do when you’re not feeling yourself, I fancy it might just keep it off.”
“If ye expect me to go cartin’ your breakfast upstairs you’re much mistaken,” said Sally. “I’m a poor eater myself at best of times, and I don’t care whether I have my breakfast or not. But I’ll not go drawin’ water for you.”
“A pipe o’ baccy is as good as a breakfast to me any day,” said Jim, reaching out his hand for his pipe. “I dare say I’d be well enough to mind the childern while you was busy, Sally,” he continued, mildly. “I can manage the childern very well. You can turn ’em all in here while you’m a-cleanin’ up. P’raps ’tis just as well I should be at home once in a way,” he added, pleasantly. “You always say you can never get on wi’ your work wi’ the little ones in your way. Now they’ll be out o’ your way.”
“Ye can fetch childern yourself if you want them,” retorted Mrs Frisby, marching indignantly downstairs.
Jim crept cautiously out of bed and went to the window, chuckling to himself as he presently saw her laboriously filling her bucket at the well. He dressed himself with great speed and dexterity for one in his delicate condition, and, going into the adjoining rooms, roused the children and washed and dressed the younger ones, directing the others to do the same for themselves.
When he brought them downstairs presently, the kettle was already boiling, and Mrs Frisby, with a flushed face was getting down the teapot; if truth be told, she was not at all averse to her breakfast.