"Can't always be tied to my wife's apron-string. Oh, no! haven't come to that."
"With such a wife, and your temperament, it is the best place for you," said Ellis, laughing.
"May be it is; but, for all that, I like good company too well to spend all my time with her."
"Isn't she good company?"
"Oh, yes; but, then, variety is the very spice of life, you know."
"True enough. Well, we'll not quarrel about the matter. Come! let's go and take a drink; I'm as dry as a fish."
"I don't care if I do," was the instinctive reply of Wilkinson, who took up his hat as he spoke.
The two men left the store, and were, a little while after, taking a lunch at a public house, and chatting over their brandy and water.
At the usual dinner hour, Wilkinson returned home. He did not fully understand the expression of his wife's face, as she looked at him on his entrance: it was a look of anxious inquiry. She sat with Ella upon her lap: the child was sleeping.
"How is our little pet?" he asked, as he bent over, first kissing his wife, and then touching his lips lightly to the babe's forehead.