"I think," proceeded Mrs. Balcome, suddenly mindful of the existence of her own poodle, and looking calmly about for Babette, "I think that you have softening of the brain."
"Well,"—Sue was tinkering with the smoke-stack—"I'd rather have softening of the brain than hardening of the heart."
"Isn't she funny?" demanded Balcome, to draw his wife's fire. "She doesn't dare to stand up for Wallace you'll notice, Sue,—though she'd like to. But she can't because she's raved against that kind of thing for years. So she has to abuse somebody else."
"There's a man for you!" cried his better half. "To stand by and hear his own wife insulted!—the mother of his child—and join in it! How infamous! How base!"
Satisfied with results, Balcome consulted his watch. "Well, I'm a busy man," he observed, and kissed Hattie.
"Where is your father going?" demanded Mrs. Balcome.
"Where is father going?" telephoned Sue, taking off hat and coat.
"Buffalo."
Mrs. Balcome threw up the hand that was not engaged with the dog. "Oh, what shall we say to Buffalo!" she said tragically. "Oh, how can I ever go back!"
"Mr. Balcome, do you want to settle on some explanation?"