"That's as much as you know about it. I tell yer I never felt so bad, like, in all my life."
"Ain't it most time to take the doctor's stuff?" suggested Matthew, meekly.
"I'm sick of the medicine, and the doctor too. What good has he done me? I should like to know. I can't walk no better than I could a month ago. My limbs is as stiff as ever, and just every bit as painful."
"That comes of them mad walks yer took in all weathers; yer would tramp about, and it's been t' undoing of yer altogether."
A torrent of words followed this, of which Matthew took no heed, until she leant back, apparently exhausted, saying, "I feel awful bad. I wonder whatever in the world ails me?"
"How d'yer feel?" asked her husband, compassionately.
"My head whizzes, and I'm all over in a cold sweat, like; only feel my hand, don't it burn like a live coal?"
"It do seem as though it were afire," he replied.
"Seem!" cried Mrs. Marks. "Is that all the pity yer have in your heart for maybe your dying wife?"
"Lord save us!" exclaimed Matthew. "I've been a deal worse myself, and got well again; don't be a frightening yourself in that way, or belike you'll think you've one foot in the grave."