"O, is he?" she asked, with a strong stare, first at me and then at Fred. "Well, I don't see any thing remarkable about him, and he isn't half as good looking as the fellow standing in the door."
The compliment to Fred, at my expense, was answered by another suppressed groan from Smith, while the poor husband hardly knew whether to abuse his better half or coax her.
"Don't talk that way to strangers," the poor devil pleaded, but his good nature was all thrown away.
"Go and attend to the cattle," she ordered, "and let me alone. I haven't had a moment's peace since I married you, and I almost wish that I had fallen to the stout miner who wanted me so much. He was something like a man, and was as big as two of you."
"I wish, with all my heart, you had," muttered the bridegroom, but he took good care not to let her hear him.
"Well, give me your hand," the wife exclaimed, addressing me; "I see that no one is coming to my assistance, and a poor beau is better than none, as we used to say in Radcliff Highway." And when I extended my hand, she grasped it warmly, pressed it strongly, and with a display of ankles that put my modesty to its severest test, gave a spring, and was on the ground beside me.
"Well, you ain't so bad looking as I thought for," Maria continued, flashing a wicked glance at me, with her large eyes, that stirred my blood, in defiance of her forwardness and vulgarity. "We shall be cronies, I know. Only let me have my own way, and make love to me, and we shall get along quite pleasantly."
"But you forget your husband," I insinuated, seeing that that worthy individual began to look rather black at the idea of having a rival in his wife's affections.
"O Lord! what's the use of mentioning Barney? He's a poor coot, and will soon get used to my ways; won't you, deary?"
The husband didn't make an audible reply, but I understood him to say "Damn," quite distinctly.