“Where's Mudge, I wonder?” she said, sharply; “over to the tavern, I s'pose, as usual. There never was such a shiftless, good-for-nothing man. I'd better have stayed unmarried all the days of my life than have married him. If he don't get in by ten, I'll lock the door, and it shall stay locked. 'Twill serve him right to stay out doors all night.”
Minutes slipped away, and the decisive hour approached.
“I'll go to the door and look out,” thought Mrs. Mudge, “if he ain't anywhere in sight I'll fasten the door.”
She laid down her work and went to the door.
She had not quite reached it when it was flung open violently, and Mr. Mudge, with a wild, disordered look, rushed in, nearly overturning his wife, who gazed at him with mingled anger and astonishment.
“What do you mean by this foolery, Mudge?” she demanded, sternly.
“What do I mean?” repeated her husband, vaguely.
“I needn't ask you,” said his wife, contemptuously. “I see how it is, well enough. You're drunk!”
“Drunk!”
“Yes, drunk; as drunk as a beast.”