I detected in these questions one of my wife's favorite maneuvers. When she met with opposition to a project which she had resolved to carry out, she was in the habit of seizing upon any chance words which she could construe in such a way as to confuse and confound the enemy. Often had she driven me so hard that I have been compelled to beat a retreat in despair, and to give up arguing with her.
"Upon my word I don't know why," said Bob. "It was only a form of speech. I seem to be getting into a tangle."
"I will assist you to get out of it," said my wife, with playful severity. "Go on, Mr. Millet."
"It was originally taken on lease," continued Bob, "and the term having expired, the tenant--I suppose we must call him so--wished to renew. The landlord says, 'I will renew on one condition, that you live in the house.' The tenant objects. 'What does it matter,' he says, 'whether I live in the house or not, so long as the rent is paid?' The landlord replies that it matters a great deal, that a house cannot be kept in a satisfactory condition unless it is occupied, and that he does not like to see his property fall into decay, as this house has been allowed to do."
"Did you hear these words pass, Mr. Millet?" asked my wife.
"No; I am only throwing into shape what I have gathered."
Here we were interrupted by a knock at the door, and my wife was called from the room to see a tradesman whom she had sent for to put some locks in order. As she left us she gave Bob rather a queer look. I took advantage of her absence by asking Bob why he hesitated when he began to speak about the house.
"Well," he answered, "this is the first time I have had the pleasure of seeing your wife, and I don't know if she is a nervous woman."
"She is not easily frightened," I said, "but what has that to do with it?"
"Everything. I have heard that the house is haunted."