(I remember!)
‘Woe’s me! That is what comes of his not letting me budge from this room. O, it is a watery Sabbath when men take to doing women’s work!’
‘It defies the face of clay, mother, to fathom what makes him so senseless.’
‘Oh, it’s that weary writing.’
‘And the worst of it is he will talk to-morrow as if he had done wonders.’
‘That’s the way with the whole clanjam-fray of them.’
‘Yes, but as usual you will humour him, mother.’
‘Oh, well, it pleases him, you see,’ says my mother, ‘and we can have our laugh when his door’s shut.’
‘He is most terribly handless.’
‘He is all that, but, poor soul, he does his best.’