—"Now, don't interrupt," continued Mrs. Handsomebody. "I shall not ask you to refund the sixpence; but I have brought a prunella gaiter of my own which needs stitching, and I shall expect you to do it, without extra charge, if you wish to retain the patronage of my household."
Here was a test of manhood! Would Martindale, a full-grown male, submit to being bullied by a creature who wore a bustle, and a black silk apron? Alas, for the whiskered sex! He took his medicine; just as we, hedged in some fateful corner, gulped down our castor oil. Turning the gaiter over in his dark hands, he meekly assented. Mrs. Handsomebody, appeased by her easy victory, inquired after his wife.
"Oh, poorly as usual, thank you ma'am," he said.
"I should think that country life would be much better for her."
"She's even worse in the country."
"There was a sheet of an excellent religious paper wrapped about that gaiter. You might give it to her to read."
"Thank you, ma'am, I will, though she takes more comfort reading the dream-book than anything."
"Burn the dream-book. It is probably at the root of the trouble."
[262]
