This smoking did not please Letty at all. She disliked the smell of the pipe, and thought it an expensive and an unhealthy habit; but she wisely declined to interfere with her husband's tastes, feeling satisfied if he would smoke only at home.
Agnes came in one evening, and found Letty sitting with her work at the front window.
"How you smell of tobacco-smoke!" said she. "Do you like it?"
"No," replied Letty; "I cannot say that I do; but the men seem to take such wonderful comfort in their pipes that I have not the heart to say a word against it; though I must say I think it's a very bad habit."
"So you do find that there are some trials in married life?" said Agnes, significantly.
Letty laughed. "You don't call that a trial; do you? I wish he would give it up; but if I never have any thing more to complain of in John than his pipe, I think I shall be a happy woman."
Agnes looked a little vexed at this rejection of her condolence. She was very fond of sympathy, as she called it,—that is, of being pitied on all subjects and occasions. She wanted to be pitied because she lived in a small house,—because she was not rich,—because Number 6 had new worked-muslin curtains,—because Joseph smoked, and liked johnny-cake better than milk-toast. All these were trials, in her estimation; and she was fond of talking them over in low and confidential tones with any one who would listen to her.
This "maundering"—as the Scotch call it—was very distasteful to Letty, and she did not think it good for Agnes: so she discouraged it by every means in her power.
Agnes was not only fond of making the most of her own trials, but she was benevolently anxious that all her friends should do the same. At present, however, she abandoned the subject of the pipe, and fell upon something else.
"How they do prose and prose!" said she, looking over to the apple tree where the men were sitting. "What can they find to talk about so everlastingly?"