'Oh, very well, thank you,' said Robina, rather surprised that the
lengthy catechism on the family health did not as usual start from
'poor dear Miss Geraldine.'
'He was looking so thin, and had such a cough, I was quite concerned
when he walked out here on Good Friday afternoon,' continued Mrs.
Froggatt. 'I hope he is taking care.'
'Wilmet is always at him about it,' said Lance.
'That is right. And I hope he minds to keep the office-door shut. It
is such a draughty place! Does he wear flannel, do you know, my
dear?'
'I think so,' said Robina. 'Sister Constance told Wilmet he ought,
when he had that long cough after the measles.'
'Ay. You know--you'll excuse me, my dears, a cough is not to be
trifled with in your dear family.'
'You should write to the clerk of the weather-office, Mrs. Froggatt,'
said Lance, rather gruffly.
And as Mrs. Froggatt was not good at understanding jokes, but was
always ready to accept Mr. Lance's, she thought he meant Admiral
Fitzroy; and much explanation and banter followed, which the children
made the louder from dread of the subject. Mrs. Froggatt was by no
means the cultivated person her husband was; but, being of a good old
plain farmer stock, she was quite as unassuming, and her manners with
the young Underwoods were a good deal like those of a superior old
housekeeper, only perhaps less authoritative and familiar; but she
was not to be kept away from the subject of her real anxiety.
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