"Well?" I asked, with meek resignation, my brain beginning to stiffen, for I judged from her tone that she had arrived at some miraculous result in figures.
"We've been living in the country four months," she said impressively, "and what do you think I find? We've actually paid more for butter and milk and vegetables than in any four months while we lived in the city."
"How strange," I commented, trying to look interested.
My wife smiled slightly, in a way that I find peculiarly irritating. "You're only pretending to listen," she said, "and you couldn't possibly understand while you look like that."
My weariness vanished; I started up indignantly. "While I look like what?" I demanded.
Marion laughed. "That's better," she said. "I'd rather see you look angry than stupid. Now I'll try again to get your attention. Do you remember what you said when I gave you the choice of a lawn-mower or a hammock for your birthday?"
I did remember. I had made a swift calculation at the time that a hammock would be easier to run, so I had urged Marion not to go to the expense of a lawn-mower, reminding her also that it might properly be ranked among the tabooed farm implements.
"Certainly," I answered, at a loss to know what was coming, "I said I would prefer a hammock."
"And do you remember that you promised to hire or borrow one of Peter's cows to crop the grass on the lawn?"
"Well, I didn't exactly promise. I said it would be easy enough to get one."