“Nor could I nurse it?”
“Certainly not.”
“Well, then, Shone, for the scarlatina’s sake I don’t mind if I do take you.”
“Then,” said Shone, “we must look sharp. Let me see his throat. He might have it come on sudden. I’ll get a license.”
It was certainly an odd proposal and a queer acceptance, and no expense was spared.
“Bless me,” said Shone, “for the child’s sake, and because of the scarlet fever, I will stump up a guinea for the license.”
So Shone and Shian were married; and the child did not get scarlatina—so that all this trouble and expense were, in Shone’s eyes, thrown away.
“Might just as well have chucked it all down a disused coalpit!” said he.
Positively he became grumpy and querulous because his child showed no signs of drowsiness, sore throat, and eruption. Not that he wished it to be ill, but he wanted a justification of his marriage.