“Now, seriously,” I heard William say, “do you think that you are a good influence for your husband to have about him? Remember, he is a very shrewd man, and knows what he is about.”
Mrs. Beehive for the moment completely filled the temple, she swelled so much as she replied, “I hope, indeed, that I am, Mr.—er—”
“Why? in what way?” demanded deep-throated William.
“It is not for me to describe in what way,” answered Mrs. Beehive, “but there are many ways. Perhaps you will find out some day for yourself when you are married!” she added, artfully drawing another bolt across the door.
He went round to the back of the temple and shouted through the window, “Isn’t it more likely that the influence of the Almighty keeps your husband friendly with you, rather than that your influence keeps him friendly with the Almighty? Not of course that it matters either way; the result is the same. He is a good honest man. But it is worth getting at the facts.”
“Wait till you are married,” repeated Mrs. Beehive shrilly, and I have no doubt that soon he had her fluttering before him once more, but I was obliged to leave them.
“What the devil do these people think they are doing, leading the moral tone of the town?” he once said to Mrs. Henry. “Women who don’t understand the rudiments of morality.”
“Well, I am sure the men are no better, William,” said poor Mrs. Henry, who, as I have said, really admires her brother, and would like her sex to stand well with him.
“They are better in this way,” observed William, “that they treat their own morals as what they are, manners suitable and appropriate to the society in which they live; they don’t take them seriously as you do, as if they were ordained by Divine inspiration.”