“Now he’ll go straight to his uncle and tell him what a man you are.”
“Let him,” said Jem, with his mouth full of bread and butter.
“And of course you’ll lose your place, and we shall be turned out into the street to starve.”
“Will you be quiet, Sally? How’s a man to eat his tea with you going on like that?”
“Turned out into the world without a chance of getting another place. Oh! It’s too bad. Why did I ever marry such a man as you?”
“’Cause you were glad of the chance,” grumbled Jem, raising his hand to pour out some tea, but it was pushed aside indignantly, and the little woman busily, but with a great show of indignation, filled and sweetened her husband’s cup, which she dabbed down before him, talking all the while, and finishing with,—
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Jem.”
“I am,” he grumbled. “Ashamed that I was ever such a stupid as to marry a girl who’s always dissatisfied. Nice home you make me.”
“And a nice home you make me, sir; and don’t eat your victuals so fast. It’s like being at the wild beast show.”
“That’s right; go on,” grumbled Jem, doubling his rate of consumption. “Grudge me my meals now. Good job if we could undo it all, and be as we was.”