“I'm so sorry, dear,” faltered Mrs. Korner, “but there weren't any in the house.”
“In a perfectly organizedouse, such as for the future I meanterave,” continued Mr. Korner, helping himself to beer, “there should always be chopanteak. Unnerstanme? chopanteak!”
“I'll try and remember, dear,” said Mrs. Korner.
“Pearsterme,” said Mr. Korner, between mouthfuls, “you're norrer sort of housekeeper I want.”
“I'll try to be, dear,” pleaded Mrs. Korner.
“Where's your books?” Mr. Korner suddenly demanded.
“My books?” repeated Mrs. Korner, in astonishment.
Mr. Korner struck the corner of the table with his fist, which made most things in the room, including Mrs. Korner, jump.
“Don't you defy me, my girl,” said Mr. Korner. “You know whatermean, your housekeepin' books.”
They happened to be in the drawer of the chiffonier. Mrs. Korner produced them, and passed them to her husband with a trembling hand. Mr. Korner, opening one by hazard, bent over it with knitted brows.