"Ah, yes, I forgot. But you might have asked her if she fancied anything."
"I said to her last week," replied the mother, with a dark, fierce flash into her husband's face, "when she came out of one of her faints, 'Sally, what would you like?' 'I'd like some gin, mother,' she answered. I was afraid she might give me the same answer again."
He quailed before the look, and the strong reproach conveyed in the mother's words.
"Don't let's have any more quarrelling to-night, old woman," he said.
"I don't want any quarrelling: I'm not a match for you, Dick."
"That's as it should be, old woman," he said, recovering his spirits. "Man's the master."
"You're good at words, Dick."
"That's so," he chuckled vainfully.
"But better at something else."
"At what, old woman?"