"The woman is in labour," said Harry in reply to Adela, forgetting, in
the stern reality both for the poor woman and himself, that girls of
Adela's age and social position are not accustomed to hear such facts so
plainly expressed, from a man's lips. Adela, however, simply accepted
the fact, and replied:
"But you will be too late anyhow."
"Perhaps just in time," he answered, as his brother entered with a coat
over his arm.
"Ralph," he went on, with a laugh, "they are trying to persuade me not
to go."
"It is a tempting of Providence," said Mrs. Bloomfield.
"Harry, my boy," said the curate solemnly, "I would rather have you
brought home dead to-morrow, than see you sitting by that fire five
minutes after your mare comes. But you'll put on a great-coat?"
"No, thank you. I shall do much better without one. How comical I shall
look in Farmer Prisphig's Sunday clothes! I'm not going to be lost this
storm, Mrs. Bloomfield; for I second-see myself at this moment, sitting
by the farmer's kitchen fire, in certain habiliments a world too wide
for my unshrunk shanks, but doing my best to be worthy of them by the
attention I am paying to my supper."
Here he stooped to Lizzie and whispered in her ear:
"Don't let them make a fuss about my going. There is really no
particular danger. And I don't want my patient there frightened and
thrown back, you know.
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