“'He is Abner's brother,' she says, 'and I promised Abner. I can't tell him to go. I can't tell him to leave this house, his brother's house.'
“Now, consarn it, there was another thing. It WAS Abner's house, or had been afore he died, and now 'twas hers. If I ever forgot that fact, which wa'n't by no means likely to happen, Bennie D. took occasions enough to remind me of it. So I was set back again with my canvas flappin', as you might say.
“'No,' says I, 'course you can't. He's your brother-in-law.'
“'But you are my husband,' she says, lookin' at me kind of queer. Anyhow, it seems kind of queer to me now. I've thought about that look a good deal since, and sometimes I've wondered if—if . . . However, that's all past and by.
“'Yes,' I says, pretty average bitter, 'but second husbands don't count for much.'
“'Some of 'em don't seem to, that's a fact,' she says.
“'By jiminy,' I says, 'I don't count for much in this house.'
“'Yes?' says she. 'And whose fault is that?'
“Well, I WAS mad. 'I tell you what I CAN do,' I sings out. 'I can quit this landlubber's job where I'm nothin' but a swab, and go to sea again, where I'm some account. That's what I can do.'
“She turned and looked at me.