"Oh, they are never at a loss. Mr. De Witt thinks a certain doctrine is in the Bible, and John thinks it is not; and when every thing else is exhausted, they fall back upon that. I cannot say I am much the wiser for their discussions; but they seem to enjoy them wonderfully. I don't think John ever conversed so much in his life before; for he is not a great talker; but he and Mr. De Witt seem to suit each other exactly."
"And so they go by themselves and talk, and leave you to amuse yourself the best way you can. Very kind and considerate, certainly!"
Letty winced at this; for the truth was, she had not always been able to help feeling a little jealous of these conversations, from which she was in a great measure excluded simply because she did not understand what they were about. The knotty points of theology and metaphysics in which the two men took such interest were not of much interest to her, and seemed to be disputes about words more than any thing else; and the mysterious diagrams in the "Scientific American," over which they poured for hours sometimes, were so much Greek to her. Agnes saw her advantage, and pursued it.
"The fact is, Letty, say what you will, all men are selfish. They think their wives are just made to wait upon them and take care of their homes, and that they ought to be thankful for any crumbs of comfort the men choose to bestow upon them. Now, there is that 'Scientific American:' it is of no earthly use to you. Why couldn't he just as well subscribe to some paper that you would like to read as well as himself? What is that but selfishness?"
Agnes had made a mistake. She should not have attacked John directly. It roused Letty's wife-spirit in an instant.
"You are very much mistaken, Agnes. John is not selfish. He is always thinking what he can do to please me and to save me trouble. Look at all the little contrivances he has made about the house for my convenience. The very first thing he thinks of when he comes in, and the last thing before he goes out, is whether he can do any thing to help me. As for the 'Scientific American,' it is a great assistance to him in his business; and, if he takes that for himself, he takes the Magazine expressly for me,—for he hardly ever looks at it. He doesn't care for that sort of reading."
"That is just what I say," persisted Agnes. "If he were not selfish, he would care, just because it interested you. And there is Joseph, just the same. He laughed at my worsted-work last night, and said my dog squinted, and my dog's nose was like a pair of stairs; and he would not hold my worsted for me, just because he was whittling something."
"Whittling what?"
"Oh, I don't know. He wanted to explain it to me; but I couldn't pay attention enough to understand. Some trumpery model or other, I suppose."
"Well, but, Agnes, I think it is a poor rule that won't work both ways. Why should not Joseph complain of your selfishness and want of love for him because you would not be interested in his models? It was as important to him as your worsted-work to you;—rather more so, probably. I should think, for my part, there was some selfishness in requiring a man to lay down such a piece of work to hold worsted, which might just as well be wound off of a chair."