She likes things comfortable;—and why shouldn't she, with two hundred a year of her own coming out of the Kingsland Road brickfields? As for dress, her things is beautiful, and she is the woman that takes care of 'em! Why, I remember an Irish tabinet as Smiley gave her when first that venture in the brick-fields came up money; if that tabinet is as much as turned yet, why, I'll eat it. And then, the best of it is, she'll have you to-morrow. Indeed she will; or to-night, if you'll ask her. Goodness gracious! if there aint Moulder!' And the excellent wife jumped up from her seat, poked the fire, emptied the most comfortable arm-chair, and hurried out to the landing at the top of the stairs. Presently the noise of a loudly wheezing pair of lungs was heard, and the commercial traveller, enveloped from head to foot in coats and comforters, made his appearance. He had just returned from a journey, and having deposited his parcels and packages at the house of business of Hubbles and Grease in Houndsditch, had now returned to the bosom of his family. It was a way he had, not to let his wife know exactly the period of his return. Whether he thought that by so doing he might keep her always on the alert and ready for marital inspection, or whether he disliked to tie himself down by the obligation of a fixed time for his return, Mrs. Moulder had never made herself quite sure. But on neither view of the subject did she admire this practice of her lord. She had on many occasions pointed out to him how much more snug she could make him if he would only let her know when he was coming. But he had never taken the hint, and in these latter days she had ceased to give it.
'Why, I'm uncommon cold,' he said in answer to his wife's inquiries after his welfare. 'And so would you be too, if you'd come up from Leeds since you'd had your dinner. What, John, are you there? The two of you are making yourself snug enough, I suppose, with something hot?'
'Not a drop he's had yet since he's been in the house,' said Mrs. Moulder. 'And he's hardly as much as darkened the door since you left it.' And Mrs. Moulder added, with some little hesitation in her voice, 'Mrs. Smiley is coming in to-night, Moulder.'
'The d——— she is! There's always something of that kind when I gets home tired out, and wants to be comfortable. I mean to have my supper to myself, as I likes it, if all the Mother Smileys in London choose to come the way. What on earth is she coming here for this time of night?'
'Why, Moulder, you know.'
'No; I don't know. I only know this, that when a man's used up with business he don't want to have any of that nonsense under his nose.'
'If you mean me———' began John Kenneby.
'I don't mean you; of course not; and I don't mean anybody.
