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Wittles what do you laugh at? Oh, don't they? Don't women know what friendship is? Upon my life, you've a nice opinion of us! Oh yes, we can we can look outside of our own fenders, Mr. Caudle. And if we can't, it's all the better for our families. A blessed thing it would be for their wives and children if men couldn't either.
Every one of your features seems cut up and all seem travelling from one another. Six months ago, Caudle, you hadn't a wrinkle; yes, you'd a cheek as smooth as any china, and now your face is like the Map of England. "At your time of life, too! You, who were for always going small and sure! You to make heads-and-tails of your money in this way!
What do you say? "No, Mr. Caudle; the shame lies with you, that don't let your children appear at church like other people's children, that make 'em uncomfortable at their devotions, poor things! for how can it be otherwise, when they see themselves dressed like nobody else?
"Nonsense, Caudle; you must have seen it. I'm sure nothing delights the dear soul so much as when she's thinking how to please you. "Don't you remember Thursday night, the stewed oysters when you came home? That was all dear mother's doings! 'Margaret, says she to me, 'it's a cold night; and don't you think dear Mr.
Every button you have may drop off, and I won't so much as put a thread to 'em. And I should like to know what you'll do then? Oh, you must get somebody else to sew 'em, must you? That's a pretty threat for a husband to hold out to a wife! And to such a wife as I've been, too: such a negro-slave to your buttons, as I may say! Somebody else to sew 'em, eh? No, Caudle, no: not while I'm alive!
Well, what a relief to me it would be if dear mother was always at hand, that you might have a stew when you liked. What a load it would be off my mind. "Again, for pickles! Not at all like anybody else's pickles. Her red cabbage why, it's as crisp as biscuit! And then her walnuts and her all-sorts! Eh, Caudle? You know how you love pickles; and how we sometimes tiff about 'em?
It's no matter, sir, if the pink bonnet was fifty years ago it's all the same for that. No: and if I live for fifty years to come, I never will leave off talking of it. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Caudle. Ha! few wives would have been what I've been to you. I only wish my time was to come over again, that's all; I wouldn't be the fool I have been.
To think of one's absent love is very sweet; but it becomes monotonous after a mile or two of a towing-path, and the mind will turn away to Aunt Sally, the Cremorne Gardens, and financial questions. I doubt whether any girl would be satisfied with her lover's mind if she knew the whole of it. "I say, Caudle, I wonder whether a fellow could get into a club?"
Oh, you needn't roll your head about on the pillow in that way: I say, just the same. Well, then, if I'm altered, whose fault is it? Not mine, I'm sure certainly not. Don't tell me that I couldn't talk at all then I could talk just as well then as I can now; only then I hadn't the same cause. It's you who've made me talk. What do you say? "Caudle, you do nothing but insult me.
I'll not be such a fool. No; nor I won't have discredit brought upon the house by sending for soda-water early, for all the neighbourhood to say, 'Caudle was drunk last night. No: I've some regard for the dear children, if you haven't. No: nor you shan't have broth for dinner. Not a neck of mutton crosses my threshold, I can tell you.
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