The Tailor-Made Girl/A Bad Cough
A BAD COUGH.
Rev. Dr. Hautton (before service, to sexton).—Jones, slant the second window to the left behind the pulpit; it throws a pleasant light on the reading desk.
Jones.—Very well, sir!
Rev. Dr. H. (solus).—The green hue also enhances the pallor of my face.
***
Rev. Dr. H. (after service).—Good morning, my dear Mr. Crœsus! What a charming day has been graciously vouchsafed to us!
Mr. Crœsus.—H-m—yes—yes—fine season of the year!
Rev. Dr. H. (coughing).—I noticed Mrs. Crœsus's absence from church this morning. I hope the dear lady is not ill.
Mr. Crœsus.—No, no—used up a little; she's been on that Kirmess all the week, you know, and it's (excuse me) been a dayvilish hard job.
Rev. Dr. H.—Mrs. Crœsus is apt to go beyond her strength, I fear—her enthusiasm is so great.
Mr. Crœsus.—It was pure spunk, this time; she made up her mind to lay the Bullion faction out cold, and she did it in great style.
Rev. Dr. H. (coughing).—I noticed a pleasant rivalry.
Mr. Crœsus.—It was war to the knife. I told Julia to go in and win, and I'd back her any amount—and we got there! (chuckling.)
Rev. Dr. H.—The whole affair was very successful.
Mr. Crœsus.—Successful! I should think so! Why, the Bullion booth couldn't hold a candle to ours! I paid seven hundred dollars for the floral decorations alone.
Rev. Dr. H. (coughing violently).—Your generous nature, Mr. Crœsus, is a noble endowment.
Mr. Crœsus.—Ain't you barking more'n usual, Doctor?
Rev. Dr. H.—A trifle only—my old bronchial trouble.
Mr. Crœsus.—Better take a run down the coast. You ain't been away since you got home from Europe in November—and the summer vacation is two months off yet.
Rev. Dr. H.—I presume my unremitting labors have somewhat aggravated my trouble, but—
Mr. Crœsus (chuckling).—Weak lot, these ministers—have to look after 'em all the time. I'll speak to the vestry.
Rev. Dr. H. (smiling too).—What a vein of humor you have!
***
Rev. Dr. H.—Good morning, my dear Mrs. Bullion; in your place, as always.
Mrs. Bullion.—Yes; I can come to church on Sunday if I have worked all the week; some people can't.
Rev. Dr. H.—A little relaxation would have been pardoned to-day, dear Mrs. Bullion—your zeal during the past week has been so great.
Mrs. Bullion.—I did work hard, and it was all the more galling to have my efforts so belittled, as they were in one direction.
Rev. Dr. H. (coughing).—Oh, I think not! Everybody spoke of your lovely booth.
Mrs. Bullion (softening a little).—Is that so? I'm really gratified. The Crœsuses party seemed to think there was nothing worth looking at but theirs. What a cold you have, Doctor Hautton! I told Mr. Bullion there was something more than mere money outlay to be looked for in the arrangement of the booth, and I am so pleased you recognized it.
Rev. Dr. H. (coughing).—I did, indeed! Mrs. Hautton, too, commented on the lovely combination of color.
Mrs. Bullion.—Did she? She has so much taste! But you must take care of your cough—a little change would break it up the quickest.
Rev. Dr. H.—Yes; I am thinking of a short sea-trip—a run down the coast, perhaps.
Mrs. Bullion.—The very thing! I'll have Mr. Bullion see that you get off very soon.
Rev. Dr. H.—You are so very sympathetic, dear Mrs. Bullion.
***
Mrs. Backpew.—Good morning, Dr. Hautton!
Rev. Dr. H.—Oh—ah—good morning, good morning!
Mrs. Backpew.—I enjoyed the service so much this morning—it's the first time in seven weeks I've been at church.
Rev. Dr. H.—H-m—a long time to be away from one's place in the Lord's house.
Mrs. Backpew.—But you know my children have all been ill with scarlet fever.
Rev. Dr. H.—Ah—true—that alters the case somewhat, still—
Mrs. Backpew.—I was so afraid you or Mrs. Hautton might call. I sent a message to the rectory, begging you not to do so—the infection is so great, you know.
Rev. Dr. H.—H-m—yes, very thoughtful, I'm sure. I presume the message was received, as we did not call—did we?
Mrs. Backpew.—Oh, no! Now, however, all danger is over, and—
Rev. Dr. H.—Oh, excuse me, if you please; I must speak to Mrs. Veuveriche a moment.
***
Rev. Dr. H.—Good morning, my dear Mrs. Veuveriche! Allow me to see you to your carriage! (coughing.)
Mrs. Veuveriche.—Oh, Doctor Hautton, I want to see you! I am positively alarmed about you! Your pallor in the pulpit this morning was ghastly. You must have a change!
Rev. Dr. H.—Oh, it is nothing, my dear madam, nothing!
Mrs. Veuveriche.—Nonsense! it's a great deal. Come around with Mrs. Hautton, and take supper with me after service to-night. Bartrand shall make you a dish of your favorite terrapin, and we'll see what can be done for you.
Rev. Dr. H.—What a great noble heart you have!
