If you encourage servants in giving way to every little disagreeable feeling, and complaining of every little ailment, you'll have your hands full.

I never complain myself--nobody knows what I endure.

I feel it a duty to bear it quietly, and I do." Miss Ophelia's round eyes expressed an undisguised amazement at this peroration, which struck St.Clare as so supremely ludicrous, that he burst into a loud laugh.
"St.Clare always laughs when I make the least allusion to my ill health," said Marie, with the voice of a suffering martyr.

"I only hope the day won't come when he'll remember it!" and Marie put her handkerchief to her eyes.
Of course, there was rather a foolish silence.

Finally, St.Clare got up, looked at his watch, and said he had an engagement down street.