Jenkins
came down.
"Oh, it's you!" quoth she. "I hope he'll be at rest now. He has been
bothering his mind over you all day. My opinion is, he'd never have
come to this state if he had taken things easy, like sensible people."
"Is he in his room?" inquired Arthur.
"He is in his room, and in his bed. And what's more, young Mr.
Channing, hell never get out of it alive."
"Then he is worse?"
"He has been worse this four days. And I only get him up now to have
his bed made. I said to him yesterday, 'Jenkins, you may put on your
things, and go down to the office if you like.' 'My dear,' said he, 'I
couldn't get up, much less get down to the office;' which I knew was
the case, before I spoke. I wish I had had my wits about me!" somewhat
irascibly went on Mrs. Jenkins: "I should have had his bed brought down
to the parlour here, before he was so ill. I don't speak for the shop,
I have somebody to attend to that; but it's such a toil and a trapes up
them two pair of stairs for every little thing that's wanted."
"I suppose I can go up, Mrs. Jenkins?"
"You can go up," returned she; "but mind you don't get worrying him. I
won't have him worried. He worries himself, without any one else doing
it gratis. If it's not about one thing, it's about another. Sometimes
it's his master and the office, how they'll get along; sometimes it's
me, what I shall do without him; sometimes it's his old father.
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