“It was an awkward business, my dear, your spending the autumn at South End instead of coming here. I never had much opinion of the sea air.”
“Mr. Wingfield most strenuously recommended it, sir–or we should not have gone. He recommended it for all the children, but particularly for the weakness in little Bella’s throat,– both sea air and bathing.”
“Ah! my dear, but Perry had many doubts about the sea doing her any good; and as to myself, I have been long perfectly convinced, though perhaps I never told you so before, that the sea is very rarely of use to any body. I am sure it almost killed me once.”
“Come, come,” cried Emma, feeling this to be an unsafe subject, “I must beg you not to talk of the sea. It makes me envious and miserable;– I who have never seen it! South End is prohibited, if you please. My dear Isabella, I have not heard you make one inquiry about Mr. Perry yet; and he never forgets you.”
“Oh! good Mr. Perry–how is he, sir?”
“Why, pretty well; but not quite well. Poor Perry is bilious, and he has not time to take care of himself–he tells me he has not time to take care of himself–which is very sad–but he is always wanted all round the country. I suppose there is not a man in such practice anywhere. But then there is not so clever a man any where.”
“And Mrs. Perry and the children, how are they? do the children grow? I have a great regard for Mr. Perry. I hope he will be calling soon. He will be so pleased to see my little ones.”
“I hope he will be here to-morrow, for I have a question or two to ask him about myself of some consequence. And, my dear, whenever he comes, you had better let him look at little Bella’s throat.”
“Oh! my dear sir, her throat is so much better that I have hardly any uneasiness about it. Either bathing has been of the greatest service to her, or else it is to be attributed to an excellent embrocation of Mr. Wingfield’s, which we have been applying at times ever since August.”
“It is not very likely, my dear, that bathing should have been of use to her–and if I had known you were wanting an embrocation, I would have spoken to–
“You seem to me to have forgotten Mrs. and Miss Bates,” said Emma, “I have not heard one inquiry after them.”
“Oh! the good Bateses–I am quite ashamed of myself–but you mention them in most of your letters. I hope they are quite well. Good old Mrs. Bates–I will call upon her to-morrow, and take my children.–They are always so pleased to see my children.– And that excellent Miss Bates!–such thorough worthy people!– How are they, sir?”
“Why, pretty well, my dear, upon the whole. But poor Mrs. Bates had a bad cold about a month ago.”
“How sorry I am! But colds were never so prevalent as they have been this autumn. Mr. Wingfield told me that he has never known them more general or heavy–except when it has been quite an influenza.”
“That has been a good deal the case, my dear; but not to the degree you mention. Perry says that colds have been very general, but not so heavy as he has very often known them in November. Perry does not call it altogether a sickly season.”
“No, I do not know that Mr. Wingfield considers it very sickly except–
“Ah! my poor dear child, the truth is, that in London it is always a sickly season. Nobody is healthy in London, nobody can be. It is a dreadful thing to have you forced to live there! so far off!– and the air so bad!”
“No, indeed–we are not at all in a bad air. Our part of London is very superior to most others!–You must not confound us with London in general, my dear sir. The neighbourhood of Brunswick Square is very different from almost all the rest. We are so very airy! I should be unwilling, I own, to live in any other part of the town;– there is hardly any other that I could be satisfied to have my children in: but we are so remarkably airy!–Mr. Wingfield thinks the vicinity of Brunswick Square decidedly the most favourable as to air.”