The commissary bowed his head in apparent acquiescence, but when he and the squire were left to their wine he recurred to the matter.
“I look to ye, Meredith,” he said, “to overcome your wife’s absurd whimsey.”
“’T is useless to argue with Matilda when her mind ’s made up,” answered the husband, dejectedly. “That I have learned time and again.”
“And so ’t is with all women, if a man ’s so foolish as to argue. Didst ever hear of ignorance paying heed to reason? There’s but one way to deal with the sex: ‘Do this, do that; ye shall, ye sha’n’t,’ is all the vocabulary a man needs to make matrimony agreeable. Put your foot down, and, mark me, she’ll come to heel like a spaniel. But go ye must, for Sir William makes it a positive point that all of prominence attend the theatre and assembly, that the public may learn that the gentry are with us.”
“They brought no clothes for such occasions,” objected the squire, falling back on a new line of defence.
“Take fifty pounds more from me; ’t will be money well spent.”
“I like not to increase my borrowings, and especially for female fallals and furbelows.”
“Nonsense, man; don’t shy at a few hundred pounds. Ye know one year of order and rents will pay all ye owe me twice over. Ye must not displeasure Sir William for such a sum.”
So it came to pass that the squire, when they rejoined the ladies, emboldened by his wine, promptly let fall the observation that he had decided they were all to go to the theatre.
“Thou heardst me say that I am principled against it,” dissented Mrs. Meredith.