GUIDE, HOST AND NURSE
When I got back to my rooms after leaving Mrs. Faulkner and Nina I
found a note from Owen asking me to go and see him at once. Since he
had, until then, avoided me in every possible way I guessed that
something serious had happened, and when I got to his rooms in Lomax
Street, I found him in bed with a cough which ought to have frightened
his landlady instead of making her in a very bad temper. He was,
however, more worried about the interruption to his reading than
anxious about himself, and he said flatly that he could not afford to
have a doctor. I tried to cheer him up--but you can't cheer up a man
with a cough--and I told him I would come to him whenever he wanted me,
and made him promise he would send for me if I could do anything for
him. He did not seem to have a single friend in Oxford, and the
loneliness of the man made me feel absolutely wretched.
I went to a very confidential chemist who knew nearly every man who had
ever been at Oxford, and everything under the sun, and explained to him
what sort of cough Owen had. He understood instantly, and said that he
would send a mixture which worked miracles, but I could not get Owen
off my mind at once, and when Jack Ward came in very late to see me I
sat up talking to him until a most unrighteous hour, with the result
that I lay in bed the next morning until I was perfectly tired of my
scout coming to call me.
A letter from my mother was on my table in which she said that I was on
no account to allow Nina to interrupt my reading, but I had only just
finished breakfast, when Mrs. Faulkner and Nina came into my rooms.
Mrs. Faulkner fixed her eyes on the tea-pot and said nothing; Nina,
however, asked if everybody in Oxford breakfasted at eleven o'clock. I
had not expected them, and was consequently a little flurried; the
truth is that I was not properly dressed, which handicapped my
movements considerably. Decency compelled me to keep my legs under the
table, until I could slip into my bedder. I was not in a condition to
treat visitors who goaded at my laziness with any courage; tact was the
only thing possible. In my agitation I did not notice that Nina had
put on the clock quite twenty minutes, and when she asked me if I was
going to sit in front of the marmalade for the rest of the day, I had
to reply that I thought it was rather a good place to sit. I had
managed to hide myself behind the table-cloth when I stood up to wish
them good-morning, but I simply did not dare to move again.
Mrs. Faulkner fluttered round the room looking at photographs; the bare
knees of the Rugger XV. compelled her to say that she did not think
them at all nice. I put my legs farther under the table and felt like
blushing. She began to suspect that I was hiding something, and I am
afraid she was the sort of woman who did not understand, until she had
discovered them, that there are some things which had better remain
hidden. She tried little tricks to entice me from my seat, and even
came and examined the table-cloth, which was ordinary enough, though
she said it was a beautiful one. I did not see how a white table-cloth
could be beautiful, but I clutched it most fervently and her ruse
failed. She then asked me if a plate which had cost
elevenpence-farthing was Wedgwood, and asked me to take it off the wall
so that she might see the mark on the back. I told her I had bought it
at the Japanese shop and mentioned the sum it cost, but she declared
that I had got a bargain and she must have it down. I replied that it
was a fixture, though I meant that I was, and that no one had ever been
known to find a bargain in a Japanese shop. Then she grew plaintive;
"I think you might please me in this, Godfrey," she said.
The time had come for me to take Nina into my confidence. Mrs.
Faulkner's eyes were fixed on the plate and her back was turned to me;
I poked out one leg tentatively and Nina understood. There was one
splendid thing about Nina, you could always rely upon her in a crisis.
She took up a chair at once and said that she would get the plate down;
she added that unless I sat still after meals I might have very bad
indigestion, but that was too much for Mrs. Faulkner.
"I shouldn't think Godfrey has had indigestion in his life," she said.
"I don't believe he has ever heard of pepsine. He is in a
disgracefully bad temper; there is nothing else the matter with him as
far as I can see."
"He was a very delicate child," Nina answered, "and has always been
quite disgracefully spoilt. He never does anything which he doesn't
like." I felt that Nina was over-playing her part, but I could not
defend myself.
"It is so nice having Nina here to do things for me," I said meekly;
"and I hope you don't mind me treating you as if you are a relation," I
added to Mrs. Faulkner.
"I do mind very much; nothing is an excuse for being lazy and
ill-natured. I was brought up in the old school, I suppose," she
answered, and I wished to goodness she had never left it.
Nina got up on the chair and pretended that she could not reach the
plate.
"Now if you stood up here you could reach it," she said, turning round
to Mrs. Faulkner.
"But Godfrey will surely not allow me to do that," she replied.
"I always said that you were taller than Nina," I could not help
remarking, for Nina prided herself on being about three inches taller
than she was; and she had said all sorts of things about me.
"I wonder if I could reach the plate," Mrs. Faulkner said.
"It would be rather a sporting thing to try," I answered. "Nina
couldn't reach it."
"I think not," she returned; "I might fall over backwards." And she
sat down carefully in my biggest arm-chair.
My scout came in to clear away breakfast, and the situation was
desperate. I picked up a piece of toast hastily and told him to come
back in half-an-hour. Mrs. Faulkner had taken her seat behind me, and
I could only turn with difficulty to talk to her; while Nina's
enthusiasm on my behalf seemed to have waned since her plot to get Mrs.
Faulkner on the chair had failed. If I had only dressed the lower part
of myself properly instead of the top part it would not have mattered
so much, but as it was a collar and a St. Cuthbert's XI. tie were
superfluous when other more necessary garments were lacking. I was on
the point of throwing myself upon the mercy of Mrs. Faulkner and of
explaining to her that a lot of men I knew wore very short pyjama
trousers and no socks in the mornings if they intended to read, when
Murray burst into my rooms and almost asked me why I had cut a lecture
before he saw that I had visitors.
I introduced him, and in the same breath declared that he would be
delighted to show his rooms. I was becoming reckless, and did not care
if he thought me mad. I went on to say that he had some splendid
prints which Mrs. Faulkner would like to see, and Nina was kind enough
to ask him if he would mind very much if they invaded his rooms. He
saw that something odd was happening; but Mrs. Faulkner was looking at
me, and I could make only one sign to him. I reached as far as I could
under the table and having kicked off a bedroom slipper, I stuck out
enough toes to tell him as much as he wanted to know.
"Will you come?" he asked Mrs. Faulkner. "I am afraid I have only one
print; but I should like you to see my rooms."
Mrs. Faulkner said that she would be delighted.
"Let us all go," she added; "I am sure Godfrey has been sitting long
enough at that table."
"I will be with you in two minutes," I answered.
Murray stood aside for them to go out, and closed the door behind him,
and I fairly bolted into my bedroom. But in two minutes I was dressed
and able to go to Murray's rooms, armed with the most beautiful
suggestions for spending the day.
"Will your digestion really allow you to walk about so soon?" Mrs.
Faulkner asked.
"He never has anything the matter with him," Murray said, with all the
thoughtlessness of a dyspeptic. "He used to eat huge lunches, and then
play footer; there's not much wrong with a man like that."
"You don't know what I have suffered in secret," I replied; and Nina
now that I was clothed again turned upon me and said, "Have you known
him all these years and not found that out, Mrs. Faulkner?"
"There is a good deal about Godfrey that I don't quite understand," was
the answer, and since I could not wonder at that, I begged to be
allowed to take her wherever she wished to go.
We strolled about Oxford until lunch-time, and I answered every
question asked me, and most of my answers were accurate. For I had
been careful enough to take an Oxford guide-book to bed with me, and
had not entirely wasted the early morning. In fact Mrs. Faulkner's
visit forced me to see that I knew very little about Oxford. My
guide-book knowledge was so condensed that it was more satisfying than
satisfactory, and if I had been asked what I charged per hour, I should
have had no right to be angry.
However, I did march Mrs. Faulkner and Nina round some of the sights of
the place. I showed them the Bodleian, All Souls, Shelley's memorial,
and finally brought them to a shady seat in Addison's Walk. I had been
compelled to hurry for two reasons; in the first place we had not very
much time, and secondly, my knowledge was not proof against the string
of questions which only want of breath could stop Mrs. Faulkner from
asking. I should imagine that a large number of men never find out how
great their ignorance of Oxford is until they have to show people round
it, and I candidly confess that on this day I was ashamed of myself. I
was more at home in Addison's Walk than in any other place to which I
had taken them, for it was in the open air, and also there was
something about Addison and Steele and Gay which made me like them.
The coffee-houses at which they met must have had some mysterious
attraction for me, I think, and led me on to read what they had
written. I should have liked to have Sir Roger de Coverley for my
uncle, and I cannot imagine a nicer man to have a day's fishing with
than Will Wimble. I hated Pope as much as I liked Addison, and though
Mrs. Faulkner said he was a great satirist, I thought of him only as a
man who wrote most disagreeable things about his friends.
"It is necessary to separate the man from his work, if you are to be a
good critic," Mrs. Faulkner said, and though this remark may be true
enough I did not answer it, for Nina was looking extremely bored by the
conversation we had been having about Addison.
"We may as well go to Oriel and find Fred," I suggested, and Nina got
up at once.
"Unfortunately the art of satire is dead, drowned by exaggeration,"
Mrs. Faulkner said as we went through the cloisters.
"I think it's a better death than it deserves, don't you, Nina?" I
replied.
"I know nothing whatever about it," she answered.
"Abuse has taken the place of satire," Mrs. Faulkner continued.
"And a jolly good job, too," I said, for Nina's face of disgust made me
forget to whom I was talking; "it is those sly digs in the ribs which
make me ill."
"My dear Godfrey, what dreadful slang you use. A few minutes ago you
surprised me by being interested in English literature, and now you
talk as if there had never been such a thing."
"You surprised me, too," I said, for I felt as if I had concealed
enough for one day.
"How? Do tell me," Mrs. Faulkner said quickly.
"I should not have thought that you cared about Addison or any of those
old people," I answered, but I began to wish I had been more cautious.
"Why not?"
"Oh, I don't know."
"But, why not?"
"Well, I thought you were more modern."
"I don't know what you mean," she said.
"I am sure I don't," I answered; and as we passed Long Wall Street I
managed to get on the far side of Nina, and to beseech her to say
something.
"I insist on you telling me what you mean," I heard Mrs. Faulkner say,
but before I could even think of my answer Nina had come to my rescue
by declaring that she admired the hat of a girl who was walking in
front of us. It was a flower-garden hat, and looked more like an
advertisement for somebody's seeds than a decent covering for the head.
Nina's remark, however, turned Mrs. Faulkner's attention away from me,
and we listened to a lecture on taste until we were safely in Oriel.
But Fred was not forthcoming, and Mrs. Faulkner promptly decided that
he was working. Comparisons, in which I took no kind of interest, were
drawn between his industry and my laziness. I endured them in silence,
though I could have given Fred away had I liked, for his cap and gown
were both in his rooms, and I knew that he was more probably batting in
a net than taking notes at a lecture.
After looking round Oriel, Mrs. Faulkner and Nina went back to the
Rudolf, and I said that I must go to St. Cuthbert's and see that their
luncheon had not been forgotten. Mrs. Faulkner smiled at me
sorrowfully when I left her, and I believe she intended me to believe
that I had hurt her feelings very much. If I live to threescore years
and ten I shall not understand Mrs. Faulkner. I felt very bothered
that morning, for Nina and Mrs. Faulkner would not be in a good temper
at the same time; but I met Dennison in the quad, who introduced me to
his mother, two sisters, two cousins and an aunt. He looked quite
tired, and asked me to luncheon, but unless he had engaged the biggest
room at the Sceptre I should think he must have been glad when I
refused. He was, however, most palpably short of men. I had hardly
got rid of Dennison when I ran into Lambert, escorting four more ladies
with prodigiously long names; I think he must have found them at the
theatre, and he looked more pleased with himself than ever. When I got
back to my rooms I felt quite thankful that my party had not reached an
unwieldy size, and I had not to wait long before Mrs. Faulkner, Nina
and Fred all arrived together.
It is no use trying to give a luncheon party in a very small room,
which was not built for parties of any kind, unless every one is
prepared to be thoroughly uncomfortable. You have got to put dishes
wherever they will go and worry through as best you can. I had taken
quite a lot of trouble over the food, and the size of the room was not
my fault. My scout had made many subtle dispositions of furniture, but
the fact remained that the table was not made to hold five people,
unless the whole lot were really good sorts. So I was delighted to
find that Mrs. Faulkner was in her amiable mood and to hear her say
that she was prepared for anything, though had I not been so sure that
she would be inconvenienced, not to say squashed, before she finished,
I am not sure that I should have accepted this reckless mood as much of
a compliment. The table was so crowded that it was not easy to see how
many people were expected to sit at it, and I was not surprised when
Nina suggested that we should begin luncheon. I pretended not to hear
what she said, and poked my head into a cupboard in the vain hope that
I might find something which I did not know I had lost. Mrs. Faulkner,
however, ranged herself by the table and counted the napkins.
"Five," I heard her say, and I withdrew my head from the cupboard and
whispered "Jack Ward" to Nina.
"Five," Mrs. Faulkner repeated and looked at Nina, Fred and me, as if
she was holding a roll-call.
"Who's the fifth?" Fred asked; "at any rate, I vote we begin."
At that moment I heard some one rushing up-stairs several steps at a
time. Outside my door he stopped to get some breath, and when I
introduced him to Mrs. Faulkner and Nina he was so apologetic for being
late that it was quite difficult for me to stop him. I must say that
Mrs. Faulkner tried to adapt herself to the spirit of this luncheon.
There was not much shyness about Jack Ward, and in a very few minutes
Mrs. Faulkner was fairly beaming upon him. She found out that she knew
his cousins, and Jack, who would say anything to please any lady,
declared that he had often heard of her. As he asked me afterwards
what her name was, I had to tell him that he was a regular humbug, but
he said that he was sure that she was the kind of lady who liked to
think she was never forgotten, and it was a pity to miss a harmless
chance of making her feel pleased.
At first I think Jack made her almost too pleased, and later on there
was rather a distinct reaction. She was not content with discovering
his cousins, but also found out that his father was what she called a
most generous benefactor. "The sort of man who does so much good
quietly, so unlike those noisy, discomforting people who will give
something if somebody will give something else. Charity ought not to
be limited by conditions," I heard her say.
"I don't think my father exactly throws his money about," Jack said.
"I am sure he doesn't," Mrs. Faulkner agreed readily.
"I mean that if he gives a lot away he expects to make a lot besides.
He is a business man, you see," Jack returned.
"Business men are the backbone of England," Mrs. Faulkner said at once.
"But they aren't heroes or anybody of that kind," Jack answered.
Mrs. Faulkner shook her head sorrowfully. "You young men are all
alike, you will never allow your parents to have any virtues."
I was on the point of breaking a silence which had been extraordinarily
prolonged, but Jack got ahead of me.
"I know every one is always saying that," he began, "but I don't think
it is true. If you praised my father for being generous he would
simply laugh at you. He isn't built that way, you see, and he would
think anybody a fool who gave a tremendous lot without hoping to get
something back. It is a matter of business with him and he is honest
enough to admit it."
"You do allow that he is honest," Mrs. Faulkner put in.
"Of course," Jack replied quite good-temperedly, "only no one cares to
brag about their relations unless they want to be called a snob or a
bore. It wouldn't do, you see, for a man to go about declaring that he
had an uncle who was miles ahead of everybody else's uncle, or an aunt
who could give a start to any other aunt in the world."
"It depends upon what sort of start the aunt gave," Nina, who had been
talking to Fred, remarked, and I knew by her smile that she intended
this for humour; but Fred did not hear what she said, or I expect he
would have laughed. Sometimes he was very weak with Nina.
"I am to believe then," Mrs. Faulkner said, "that all of you are very
proud of your parents, only it is what you call bad form to admit it."
Jack gave a great laugh which made everything rattle on the table, and
Mrs. Faulkner, being unaccustomed to him, looked surprised.
"Why is it such a joke?" she asked.
"I am sorry," Jack replied; "I laugh sometimes quite unexpectedly, in
my bath and places like that. I think my nerves must be wrong."
"Cigarettes," Mrs. Faulkner declared. "I think I shall write to the
papers about the University man of the day; I don't understand him in
the least," and I unfortunately caught Fred's eye and smiled. Her
statement seemed to account for so much unnecessary correspondence.
"Do," Jack answered, "and Foster, Godfrey and I will answer it."
"There wouldn't be much to write, which any one who hasn't been at
Cambridge or here would believe," Fred said.
"Why not?" Mrs. Faulkner asked.
"Because they wouldn't understand that a great many men amuse
themselves in odd ways and yet are not complete idiots. If you saw us
dancing round a bonfire you might think we were all mad, but we aren't
a bit."
"I shouldn't choose a bonfire to dance round," Mrs. Faulkner said.
"That's just it," Fred replied; "but it's very good sport when you
happen to like it."
The college messenger came into the room with a note for me which was
marked "urgent," and I asked if I might read it. Jack Ward was the
only man who ever wanted me in a hurry, and so confident was I in the
infallibility of my chemist that I was not thinking of Owen. When I
had finished reading the note I found that the conversation had taken a
more lively turn.
"It is so fortunate I brought something fit to wear," Mrs. Faulkner was
saying.
"I have only got four tickets, I wish I had got one for you," Fred said
to Jack Ward, and then I remembered that Fred had promised to get
tickets for the Brasenose ball which was taking place that evening.
"You can have mine," I told Jack Ward.
"Of course I can't do that," Jack answered; "I expect I can get one all
right, if I may join you."
Nina, who was nothing if not expeditious, said that he had better go at
once and see if he could get a ticket, but I stopped him by repeating
that he could have mine.
"It won't be used unless you take it," I added.
Every one except Fred, who saw that something had happened, led me to
believe that I was very disagreeable and foolish.
"We arranged last night that we should go if Fred could get the
tickets," Nina said, and then by way of propitiating me she told me
that I knew how well I danced.
"You will spoil Nina's evening," Mrs. Faulkner declared, and Nina, I
must say, was pouting most magnificently.
"Why can't you come?" she asked. "Has it got anything to do with that
wretched note?"
"Not another row?" Jack Ward put in most inconsiderately.
"Fred never said anything about it till too late," I answered; "he kept
the whole thing so dark."
"I knew before luncheon," Nina replied, as if she had settled me
completely.
I managed to let Fred know that I wanted him to read the note, and
having opened the Oxford "Mag" no one saw that he had got the letter
inside the pages. For a minute I persuaded Jack steadfastly to take my
ticket and he refused with determination. If it had not been that Nina
was upset very easily, and Mrs. Faulkner had been known to have
hysteria without giving any one a moment's notice, I would have
brandished the note in their faces instead of standing first on one leg
and then on the other and looking a most hopeless fool.
I did not know what to say next, when Fred put down the magazine and
joined us by the window.
"If you can't well manage to come to-night," he said, "and it was most
awfully stupid of me not to tell you at once that we were going, I am
sure Ward will have this ticket," and he pulled it out of his pocket
and simply made Jack take it.
"I don't really think I can go, though I will turn up if I can," I
said, and Fred made the most of my promise and talked so much that
before I had to say anything else I found that he had persuaded Mrs.
Faulkner and Nina to go down to the river and watch Oriel rowing in the
earlier division. I went with them as far as the college lodge and
then I disappeared, for the note which I had received upset all my
hopes of enjoying myself for the rest of the day.
The first part of it was from Owen, who said he was feeling dreadfully
ill, but the second part was written by his landlady, and she seemed to
be in a terrible temper. As far as I could make out Owen was very much
worse and still refused to have a doctor. "He says," his landlady
wrote, "that if I send for a physician he won't pay him and I was up
last night five times and who is going to stand it cough he coughs
something awful and what's going to happen I don't know I expect he's
got typhoid fever or something horrible." She did not use any stops,
but that might have been because she was in a hurry; clearly, however,
she was very angry, and there was only one thing for me to do.
I went round to Lomax Street as fast as I could, and I had no sooner
got inside the house then I heard Owen coughing. I found his landlady
in the state her letter had suggested I should find her, she was
infinitely more sorry for herself than she was for Owen, and since he
was too ill for her to get any satisfaction from visiting her grievance
upon him she started off upon me.
"You are his friend," she said as she met me in the passage, "and you
ought to have been here before. I was just doing myself up before
putting on my bonnet to go out and report this case."
"To whom were you going to report it?" I asked, for I felt very much as
if I should like to know.
"You can report it now, I put all responsibility upon you," she stated
loudly, and she took me up-stairs and announced me in a voice which
would have shaken the nerves of a strong man. I could not put up with
her any longer and I told her abruptly to go. She went energetically,
her shoulders protesting against my rudeness, and she marched down the
stairs with as much noise as she could make without hurting her feet.
I am glad that there are very few landladies left, at least in Oxford,
who look upon any illness as an opportunity for showing how nasty they
can be. I simply hated that woman, and before I had done with her I
was weak enough to tell her so. I was defeated in that battle of plain
speaking. To me, unaccustomed to illness, Owen looked as bad as anyone
could look, and apart from his cough and his temperature he had got all
sorts of worries on his mind which he wanted me to hear. I listened to
what he said without interrupting him, but I was impressed with the
fact that I must creep about a sick-room, and I am afraid I was
ostentatiously quiet. His troubles had to do with the expenses of his
illness, and he beseeched me not to send for a doctor or a nurse. I
tried to set his mind at rest, but I failed; he saw that I thought him
very ill, and when I moved round the room on tiptoe he asked me to make
as much noise as I liked. I was no use as a sick nurse, and my efforts
to make the room look fit to live in, though meant splendidly, seemed
to me to make the place more uncomfortable and cheerless than ever.
I promised faithfully that I would stay with him during the night, but
he could not make me say that I would not see a doctor, and as soon as
I could I went off and got a man whom I had once met at a smoking
conceit. This doctor was a bustling little man who did not sympathize
with nonsense, and I had to explain a lot of things before I made him
understand that this was a peculiar case.
"What is the good of you sitting up all night, even if it is
necessary," he said to me as we walked from his house to Lomax Street;
"you would certainly go to sleep and do more harm than good."
"Owen has a fairly bad cough," I answered.
"If it is bad enough to keep you awake he ought to have a proper nurse."
"He doesn't want to have a proper nurse, he is rather hard up," I said.
"Pish," was his only answer, but when he got to Owen's rooms I should
think he must have known that I had spoken the truth.
I got leave from the Subby to stay with Owen during the night, but I
cannot say that I was a successful nurse. I took some books with me
because I thought it would be a good opportunity to do some reading,
but of course I went to sleep, and woke up with a snort which would
have made me unpopular in any dormitory in the world. Owen was so much
worse in the morning that he had to be moved out of his wretched
lodgings into a place where he would be properly looked after.
I went back to St. Cuthbert's about eleven o'clock in a state of
horrible depression. I had promised to pay all the expenses of this
illness, and how I was to do it I had not an idea. The year was nearly
over and my funds were exceedingly low, but I could not help making
Owen believe that I had more money than I knew how to spend.
Outside St. Cuthbert's I met Mrs. Faulkner and Nina, and while Mrs.
Faulkner was commenting upon my dejected appearance Nina told me
frankly that I looked dirty.
"I have been up all night," I said, for there was no longer any reason
why I should not explain what had happened.
"We were not in bed until four o'clock," Nina answered proudly.
"What have you been doing?" Mrs. Faulkner asked.
"I have been nursing a man who is ill," I replied.
"Infectious?" Mrs. Faulkner asked breathlessly.
"Pneumonia, double pneumonia, I believe," I answered.
"And you heard about it yesterday afternoon?" Nina said.
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you tell us?" Mrs. Faulkner asked. "Fred and Nina
have been quarrelling about you, and I have said the most awful things.
You really might have more consideration."
"I thought it would spoil your dance if I told you; I didn't know what
was the matter with the man."
"You are a dear, Godfrey," Nina said, and she linked her arm in mine.
"I am an idiot if you want to call me any names," I replied.
"You were always that," Nina said in the manner which is called
playful; "we are just going to see Mr. Ward, who is perfectly charming;
won't you come with us?"
"I am going to have a bath, and then I must see Fred."
Nina looked displeased.
"What's the matter with Fred?" I asked.
"He's as perfect as usual," Nina answered, and swung her parasol to
show that she was not interested in him.
"We are blocking the street, and you nearly hit a man in the eye with
that thing," I said.
"You will be in a better temper when you are cleaner," Nina retorted.
"We go down at 4.15," Mrs. Faulkner said as we went into the lodge; "we
are going on some river, the one that isn't deep, in a punt with Mr.
Ward, and he is taking luncheon for us. Do you think it is quite safe,
Godfrey?"
"Quite, if Nina doesn't try to punt," I answered.
"Must we go away this afternoon?" Nina asked.
"My dear, I have three, if not four, people arriving to-night," Mrs.
Faulkner replied.
"I will be at the station to see you off," I said, for even if they
wanted me I did not feel like punting on the Cherwell.
I pointed out Jack Ward's rooms to Nina, and had walked half-way across
the quad when Mrs. Faulkner called me back.
"I hope your friend is better?" she asked.
"He has only just begun to be ill," I answered.