Only the other day, my friend Cruikshank broke a brass candlestick and looked up helplessly from the wreck.
“Where on earth can I get any solder from?” said he.
“What’s solder?” asked Bellwattle, his wife.
The question was so direct that, for the moment, it confused him.
“Solder?” he repeated. “Solder? Oh, it’s stuff to mend metal with.”
“I’ll do it with sealing-wax,” said Bellwattle.
Cruikshank laughed and, as he said to me afterwards—
“I gave it to her to do. It’s best to let women learn by experience. Sealing-wax!” And he laughed knowingly at me. I knew he meant it kindly, so I laughed with him; but the next day I made inquiries about the candlestick.
“How did she get on?” I asked.