From Lennie's little box of a chest there came a sound as though something was boiling.

There was a great lump of something bubbling in his chest that he couldn't get rid of.

When he coughed the sweat sprang out on his head; his eyes bulged, his hands waved, and the great lump bubbled as a potato knocks in a saucepan.

But what was more awful than all was when he didn't cough he sat against the pillow and never spoke or answered, or even made as if he heard.

Only he looked offended.
"It's not your poor old gran's doing it, my lovey," said old Ma Parker, patting back the damp hair from his little scarlet ears.