Mrs. Ogden obeyed. She was a small woman, pale and pensive looking; her neat hair, well netted, was touched with grey, her soft brown eyes were large and appealing, but there were lines about her mouth that suggested something different, irritable lines that drew the corners of the lips down a little. The maid came in; Colonel Ogden smiled coldly. "The grocer's book, please," he said.
Mrs. Ogden quailed; it was unfortunately the one day of all the seven when the grocer's book would be in the house.
"What for, James?" she asked.
Colonel Ogden caught the nervous tremor in her voice, and his smile deepened. He did not answer, and presently the servant returned book in hand. Colonel Ogden took it, and with the precision born of long practice turned up the required entry.
"Mary! Be good enough to examine this item."
She did so and was silent.
"If," said Colonel Ogden in a bitter voice, "if you took a little more trouble, Mary, to consider my interests, if you took the trouble to ascertain what we are paying for things, there would be less for me to worry about, less waste of money, less——" He gasped a little and pressed his left side, glancing at his wife as he did so.
"Don't get excited, James, I beg; do remember your heart."
The colonel leant back in the chair. "I dislike unnecessary waste, Mary."
"Yes, dear, of course. I wonder I didn't see that notice; I shall write for some of their bacon to-day and countermand the piece from Goodridge's. I'll go and do it now—or would you like me to give you your tabloids?"