Mamma swallowed as if a dry artichoke was in her throat, as she said, slowly, "Why, colonel, you know you had not worn that coat for months, and as you have another one, and a roquelaure, and the coat was full of moth-holes, I exchanged it with the peddler for cut glass and plate."
"Cut devils!" said papa, who liked to soften an oath by combinations; "it was worth twenty dollars—yes, more, because I felt at home in it. I hate new coats as I do—"
"But, colonel," interrupted mamma, "you did not see the scarlet tray, and the—"
"Scarlet nonsense," shouted papa; "I believe, if they could, women would sell their husbands to those rascally peddlers!"
Beauty and the hounds were now pronounced ready. I followed papa to the piazza, and heard his wrath rolling off as he cantered away.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] By permission of Fox, Duffield and Company. From The Golfer's Rubaiyat. Copyright, 1901, by Herbert S. Stone and Company.
[2] Dumb ox—a term of reproach.