Explore "Paying Guests" by E.F. Benson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It has been said that miracles don't happen. This one did. The morning broke warm and sunny again, and Miss Howard who came downstairs, warbling the chorale of her improvisation, a few minutes before the breakfast gong sounded, observed that there was a nice parcel for Colonel Chase on the table of the lounge with perfidious Amble's label. It needed no ingenuity to surmise that this contained quinine and thermogene, and Mrs. Oxney who had been looking at the proofs of her Wentworth advertisement, thought she had better send it up to his room.
"He's sure to stop in bed all morning," she said, "and the best place too for such a nasty cold as he's got, and he can wrap himself up in that wool and dose himself at pleasure. I'll send one of the maids up with it to make sure he'll have his breakfast in bed, and light his fire for him."