Mrs. Clarence. I am so sorry Horace was not able to come with you.
Horace. That is Mrs. Clarence.
Aunt. So am I, for his sake.
Mrs. Clarence. What did you say was the matter with him? Influenza?
Aunt. Did I say that? Well, I suppose influenza is as good a name for it as any other.
Mrs. Clarence. It sounds as if Master Horace had been naughty.
Aunt. Julia, dear, I am much worried about him—I am indeed.
Horace. Good old Aunt Martha! She’s not such a bad sort.
Mrs. Clarence. What is the matter with him?
Aunt. My dear, he has taken a turn for the worse.