The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VII | Page 9

Willie's wife. "He'll do it to the Queen's taste.
Won't you, Willie?"
"I will, in company with Mr. Holt--my friend and your admirer. He sits
in front every night," he added, in explanation to Carrington.
As the carriage with the happy pair drove away to the station, Presidio,
with compulsive ardor, took the arm of Mr. Francis Holt; and together
they marched up the avenue to inform Mr. Curtis of the marriage of his
daughter.

TWO CASES OF GRIP
BY M. QUAD
"What's this! What's this!" exclaimed Mr. Bowser, as he came home
the other evening and found Mrs. Bowser lying on the sofa and looking
very much distressed.
"The doctor says it's the grip--a second attack," she explained. "I was
taken with a chill and headache about noon and--"
"Grip? Second attack? That's all nonsense, Mrs. Bowser! Nobody can
have the grip a second time."
"But the doctor says so."
"Then the doctor is an idiot, and I'll tell him so to his face. I know
what's the matter with you. You've been walking around the backyard

barefoot or doing some other foolish thing. I expected it, however. No
woman is happy unless she's flat down about half the time. How on
earth any of your sex manage to live to be twenty years old is a mystery
to me. The average woman has no more sense than a rag baby."
"I haven't been careless," she replied.
"I know better! Of course you have! If you hadn't been you wouldn't be
where you are. Grip be hanged! Well, it's only right that you should
suffer for it. Call it what you wish, but don't expect any sympathy from
me. While I use every precaution to preserve my health, you go
sloshing around in your bare feet, or sit on a cake of ice to read a dime
novel, or do some other tomfool thing to flatten you out. I refuse to
sympathize with you, Mrs. Bowser--absolutely and teetotally refuse to
utter one word of pity."
Mrs. Bowser had nothing to say in reply. Mr. Bowser ate his dinner
alone, took advantage of the occasion to drive a few nails and make a
great noise, and by and by went off to his club and was gone until
midnight. Next morning Mrs. Bowser felt a bit better and made a heroic
attempt to be about until he started for the office.
The only reference he made to her illness was to say:
"If you live to be three hundred years old, you may possibly learn
something about the laws of health and be able to keep out of bed three
days in a week."
Mrs. Bowser was all right at the end of three or four days, and nothing
more was said. Then one afternoon at three o'clock a carriage drove up
and a stranger assisted Mr. Bowser into the house. He was looking pale
and ghastly, and his chin quivered, and his knees wabbled.
"What is it, Mr. Bowser?" she exclaimed, as she met him at the door.
"Bed--doctor--death!" he gasped in reply.
Mrs. Bowser got him to bed and examined him for bullet holes or knife

wounds. There were none. He had no broken limbs. He hadn't fallen off
a horse or been half drowned. When she had satisfied herself on these
points, she asked:
"How were you taken?"
"W-with a c-chill!" he gasped--"with a c-chill and a b-backache!"
"I thought so. Mr. Bowser, you have the grip--a second attack. As I
have some medicine left, there's no need to send for the doctor. I'll have
you all right in a day or two."
"Get the doctor at once," wailed Mr. Bowser, "or I'm a dead man! Such
a backache! So cold! Mrs. Bowser, if I should d-die, I hope--"
Emotion overcame Mr. Bowser, and he could say no more. The doctor
came and pronounced it a second attack of the grip, but a very mild one.
When he had departed, Mrs. Bowser didn't accuse Mr. Bowser with
putting on his summer flannels a month too soon; with forgetting his
umbrella and getting soaked through; with leaving his rubbers at home
and having damp feet all day. She didn't express her wonder that he
hadn't died years ago, nor predict that when he reached the age of
Methuselah he would know better than to roll in snow-banks or stand
around in mud puddles. She didn't kick over chairs or slam doors or
leave him alone. When Mr. Bowser shed tears, she wiped them away.
When he moaned, she held his hand. When he said he felt that the grim
specter was near, and wanted to kiss the baby good-by, she cheered him
with the prediction that he would be a great deal better next day.
Mr. Bowser didn't get