“And then proceed to point out wherein and howin he has utterly failed to make good his promises. Further, if he is still in the house, enlarge upon the change you have noted in his conduct toward you—how devoted he used to be, and how selfish he has become. Next, tell him how well-dressed other women are, and how little you have on.
“By this time, if not sooner, he will remember that he has night work clamoring for him at the office, or that his presence at the club is absolutely necessary, and it would be well for you to conclude your remarks by observing that if he bangs the front door so hard every time he goes out, he will loosen the hinges.”
“Well now,” said Mrs. Purblind—the invisible Mrs. Purblind (she always would listen to reason, which is more than could be said for the visible creature of that name), “well now, I know well enough when I go on that way, that it isn’t best to do it; but the Evil One seems to enter me, and I get going, and I couldn’t stop unless I bit my tongue off.”
“Bite it then,” I said, “and after that, jump into the lake; were you once there, your virtues would float, and your husband would love them; but alive, your virtues are beneath water, and your nagging is always on top.”
“But what is one to do? Supposing all these things are true—supposing you suffer from all these wrongs.”
“Did you ever right a wrong by setting it before your husband in this way, and at these times?”
“No.”
“Did you ever improve your condition?”
“No. But what would you do?”
“Shut up. Dip deep into silence. In the first place, when you find you have poor material, take extra care in the cooking; study the art; use all the skill you can acquire, and finally, if that won’t do, if it positively won’t—if you can’t make a decent dish out of him, open the kitchen door, and heave him into the ash-barrel, and the ash-man will cart him away.”