[Illustration: CONFESSING THEIR FAULTS]
Mrs. F. "No, I haven't, either. I'm just as good-tempered as you are."
F. "That's not so. You're as cross as a bear If you were married to a graven image, you'd quarrel with it."
Mrs. F. "That's an outrageous falsehood! There isn't any woman about this neighborhood that puts up with as much as I do without getting angry. You're a perfect brute."
F. "It's you that is the brute."
Mrs. F. "No, it isn't."
F. "Yes, it is. You're as snappish as a mad dog. It's few men that could live with you."
Mrs. F. "If you say that again, I'll scratch your eyes out."
F. "I dare you to lay your hands on me, you vixen."
Mrs. F. "You do, eh? Well, take that! and that" (cuffing him on the head).