PHILIP IS ILL

after W.S. Maugham

One morning Philip on getting up felt his head swim, and going back to bed suddenly discovered he was ill. All his limbs ached and he shivered with cold. When the landlady brought in his breakfast he called to her through the open door that he was not well, and asked for a cup of tea and a piece of toast. A few minutes later there was a knock at his door, and Griffiths came in. They had lived in the same house for over a year, but had never done more than nod to one another in the passage.

" I say, I hear you're seedy, " said Griffiths. " I thought I'd come in and see what was the matter with you."

Philip, blushing he knew not why, made light of the whole thing. He would be all right in an hour or two.

" Well, you'd better let me take your temperature, " said Griffiths.

" It's quite unnecessary, " answered Philip irritably.

" Come on."

Philip put the thermometer in his mouth. Griffiths sat on the bed and chatted brightly for a moment, then he took it out and looked at it.

" Now, look here, old man, you must stay in bed, and I'll bring old Deacon in to have a look at you."

" Nonsense, " said Philip. " There is nothing the matter. I wish you. wouldn't bother about me."

" But it is not any bother. You've got a temperature and you must stay in bed. You will, won't you? "

There was a peculiar charm in his manner, a mingling of gravity and kindliness, which was infinitely attractive.

" You've got a wonderful bedside manner, " Philip murmured, closing his eyes with a smile.

Griffiths shook out his pillow for him, smoothed down the bedclothes, tucked him up and drew down the blind.

" Now go to sleep and I'll bring the old man round as soon as he's done the wards"

It seemed hours before anyone came to Philip. Then there was a knock at the door and Griffiths, healthy, strong, and cheerful, came in.

" Here's Doctor Deacon, " he said. The physician stepped forward, an elderly man with a bland manner, whom Philip knew only by sight. A few questions, a brief examination, and the diagnosis.

" What d'you make of it? " he asked Griffiths, smiling.

" Influenza."

" Quite right."

Doctor Deacon looked round the dingy lodging-house room.

" Wouldn't you like to go to the hospital? They'll put you in a private ward, and you can be better looked after than you can here."

" I'd rather stay where I am, " said Philip. He did not want to be disturbed, and he was always shy of new surroundings. He did not fancy nurses fussing about him and the dreary cleanliness of the hospital.

" I can look after him, sir, " said Griffiths at once.

" Oh, very well." He wrote a prescription, gave instructions, and left.

" Now you've got to do exactly as I tell you, " said Griffiths. " I'm day-nurse and night-nurse all in one."

" It's very kind of you, but I shan't want anything, " said Philip.

Griffiths put his hand on Philip's forehead, a large cool, dry hand and the touch seemed to him good.

" I'm just going to take this round to the dispensary to have it made up, and then I'll come back."

In a little while he brought the medicine and gave Philip a dose. Then he went upstairs to fetch his books.

" You won't mind my working in your room this afternoon, will you? " he said when he came down. " I'll leave the door open so that you can give me a shout if you want anything."

Later in the day Philip, awaking from an uneasy doze, heard voices in his sitting-room. A friend had come in to see Griffiths.

" I say, you'd better not come in tonight, " he heard Griffiths say.

And then a minute or two afterwards someone else entered the room and expressed his surprise at finding Griffiths there. Philip heard him explain.

" I'm looking after a second-year man who's got these rooms. The poor thing is down with influenza. No whist tonight, old man."

Presently Griffiths was left alone and Philip called him.

" I say, you're not putting off a party tonight, are you? " he asked.

" Not on your account. I must work at my surgery"."

" Don't put it off. I shall be all right. You needn't bother about me."

" That's all right."

Philip grew worse. As the night came on he became slightly delirious, but towards morning he awoke from a restless sleep to find Griffiths in pyjamas and a dressing-gown.

" Why aren't you in bed? What's the time? "

" About five. I thought I'd better sit up with you tonight. I brought an armchair in as I thought if I put a mattress down I should sleep so soundly that I shouldn't hear you if you wanted anything."

" I wish you wouldn't be so good to me, " groaned Philip. " Suppose you catch it? "

" Then you shall nurse me, old man, " said Griffiths with a laugh.

In the morning Griffiths looked pale and tired after his night's watch, but was full of spirits.

" Now I'm going to wash you, " he said to Philip cheerfully.

" I can wash myself, " said Philip ashamed.

" Nonsense. If you were in the small ward a nurse would wash you, and I can do it just as well as a nurse."

Philip, too weak and wretched to resist, allowed Griffiths to wash his hands and face, his feet, his chest and back. Griffiths did it with charming tenderness, carrying on meanwhile a stream of friendly chatter; and he changed the sheet just as they did at the hospital, shook out the pillow and arranged the bedclothes.

" I can't imagine why you should be so good to me, " said Philip.

" It's good practice for me. It's rather a lark having a patient."

Griffiths gave him his breakfast and went off to get dressed and have something to eat. A few minutes before ten he came back with a bunch of grapes and a few flowers.

" You are awfully kind, " said Philip. He was in bed for five days.

Though Griffiths was the same age as Philip he adopted towards him a humorous, motherly attitude. He was a thoughtful fellow, gentle and encouraging; but his greatest quality was a vitality which seemed to give health to everyone with whom he came in contact.