"Perhaps you'll tell Mrs. Browne so?"
"Yes; I'll tell her. You have had medical advice, I suppose?"
"No, what was the use of it?" inquired Matthew.
"Not much, to be sure," replied the doctor. "What you want most is plenty of nourishing food. 'Kitchen physic,' Mrs. Reardon, and the more you can persuade him to take the better."
He little thought of the bitter pang which these words inflicted upon the heart, of the poor suffering wife—some doctors seldom do, and yet they are a kindly race of men for the most part. Alas! for the poor if it were not so.
"I think I shall be able to send something to relieve the cough," said Dr. Harding. "I do not see that anything more can be done at present."
Mrs. Reardon went out with him on to the landing.
"Is he very ill?" asked she, in a faltering voice.
"Yes, very ill. All this must have been going on a long time?"
"It has, sir, a very long time, and he appears to get weaker and weaker."