"Did you marry me simply for my money?" she demanded, coming up to him with her hands on her hips.
"N—no!" he stammered.
"Well, then, stop talking about a pot o' gold. I haven't any, and neither have you."
"Ain't you got no money o' your own, Lucy?"
"If I have I'm going to keep it to myself," she answered. "Come to supper."
He sat down and ate in silence. The next day he wanted to speak about money again, but she cut him short.
"I don't want to hear about it," she said, tartly. "I'm your wife, and I am going to do my share, keeping house and helping around. And you have got to do your share, and treat me fairly. I once heard that the first Mrs. Balberry didn't get all that was coming to her—that she had to wear the same dress and bonnet for years. Now, I want to say, right now, that isn't my style. When I want a new dress I want it, and you are going to give it to me."
"Am I?" he said, slowly.
"Yes, you are, Abner Balberry, and if I want spending money you have got to give me that, too. If you don't, I'll quit work and won't do a blessed thing around the house. So there!"
She spoke with such vigor that it made him groan. He felt it in his bones that she meant to have her way.