herself had really no belief in the treason. It was the very waywardness of affection; it was love-in-idleness frolicking now with a thorn, and now a nettle. This, however, was in earlier days. As time wore on, Mrs. Jericho would press the thorn, would flourish the nettle, with greater force and purpose, and possibly for this reason; she had found the instruments of unexpected value. Jericho, to escape them, would make the required concession, would consent to the expense demanded. Briefly, Mrs. Jericho had only to call up the shadowy wife and family out-of-doors, to compel Jericho to concede to any request for the living spouse and children beneath his roof. So useful, so valuable were these shadows found by Mrs. Jericho, that it is not to be wondered at that the good woman, without even confessing it to herself, should, as time wore on, believe them to be something more than shades; and yet not real things; on the[Pg 44] other hand, not altogether ideal mist. Having explained this much, the reader will take the taunts of Mrs. Jericho at their real worth; will value them as so much thistle-down that, blown about by idle air, nevertheless contains in its floating lightness the seed of thistles.

[Pg 44]

Mrs. Jericho remained the undisputed possessor of the last word. With a despairing twitch, Jericho had again seized the newspaper. “Well, then”—said the wife—“it is no use my wasting my time; I will write to the Carraways that we shan’t come.”

“You will do just as you please, I am sure, my dear. You always do,” said Jericho.

“Not I indeed; oh dear no. But, I dare say, your wife out of doors does as she likes; I have no doubt of that. I am sure, again and again have I wished I had been a Hindoo wife; then I had sacrificed myself upon the pyre and been happy—but I am rightly served.” Jericho, resolutely, held fast by the newspaper, determining to forego his allowed share of the conversation in favour of his wife: she should have all the talk; he would not deprive her of a single syllable. “And, Mr. Jericho, you have decided? We are not to go to Jogtrot Lodge? We are to miss—what I consider, thinking of my poor dear girls—miss one of the greatest opportunities of the season! And this because you spend out of doors what should go to your own family. I dare say, if I could only see—and I will, if I live, that I am determined upon—if I could only see how other people are drest; if I could only know the jewellery that’s lavished upon them; if I could only know what they cost, it would be pretty plain why we are debarred the common decencies of life. Once, I was foolish, 

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