“I don’t know what I answered,” says Caudle, “but I know this: in less than a fortnight I found myself in a sort of a green bird-cage of a house, which my wife - gentle satirist - insisted upon calling ‘The Turtle Dovery.’”
LECTURE XXX - MRS. CAUDLE COMPLAINS OF THE “TURTLE DOVERY.” DISCOVERS BLACK-BEETLES. THINKS IT “NOTHING BUT RIGHT” THAT CAUDLE SHOULD SET UP A CHAISE
“Tush! You’d never have got me into this wilderness of a place, Mr. Caudle, if I’d only have thought what it was. Yes, that’s right: throw it in my teeth that it was my choice - that’s manly, isn’t it? When I saw the place the sun was out, and it looked beautiful - now, it’s quite another thing. No, Mr. Caudle; I don’t expect you to command the sun, - and if you talk about Joshua in that infidel way, I’ll leave the bed. No, sir; I don’t expect the sun to be in your power; but that’s nothing to do with it. I talk about one thing, and you always start another. But that’s your art.
“I’m sure a woman might as well be buried alive as live here. In fact, I am buried alive; I feel it. I stood at the window three hours this blessed day, and saw nothing but the postman. No: it isn’t a pity that I hadn’t something better to do; I had plenty: but that’s my business, Mr. Caudle. I suppose I’m to be mistress of my own house? If not, I’d better leave it.
“And the very first night we were here, you know it, the black-beetles came into the kitchen. If the place didn’t seem spread all over with a black cloth, I’m a story-teller. What are you coughing at, Mr. Caudle? I see nothing to cough at. But that’s just your way of sneering. Millions of black-beetles! And as the clock strikes eight, out they march. What?
“They’re very punctual?
“I know that. I only wish other people were half as punctual: ’twould save other people’s money and other people’s peace of mind. You know I hate a black-beetle! No: I don’t hate so many things. But I do hate black-beetles, as I hate ill-treatment, Mr. Caudle. And now I have enough of both, goodness knows!
“Last night they came into the parlour. Of course, in a night or two, they’ll walk up into the bedroom. They’ll be here - regiments of ’em - on the quilt. But what do you care? Nothing of the sort ever touches you: but you know how they come to me; and that’s why you’re so quiet. A pleasant thing to have black-beetles in one’s bed!
“Why don’t I poison ’em?
“A pretty matter, indeed, to have poison in the house! Much you must think of the dear children. A nice place, too, to be called the Turtle Dovery!