“Yes, sir,” said Tilbury; “they were coughing a good deal in the night, and said they felt too bad to get up this morning, and had the medical doctor’s leave to stay in bed till he came round.”
“Oh,” said Railsford, and walked up-stairs to interview these two unfortunate invalids.
“Well,” said he, entering the room just in time to interrupt what he imagined, from the sounds heard outside, must have been a spirited bolster match, “how are you both this morning?”
They both began to cough, wearily, “A little better, I think,” said Arthur, with fortitude; “I think we might try to get up later on. But the medical said we’d better wait till he saw us.”
And he relapsed into a painful fit of coughing.
“I feel very hot all over,” said the baronet, who was notoriously energetic at bolster matches.
“Now, you two,” said Railsford sternly, “just get up at once. I shall remain in the room while you dress.”
They looked at him in reproachful horror, and broke into the most heart-rending paroxysm of coughing he had ever listened to.
“Stop that noise,” said he, “and get up at once.”
“Oh, please, Marky—Mr Railsford—we’re so bad and—and Daisy would be so sorry if I got consumption, or anything of that sort.”