ee how matters was driftin'. I could see plain enough, and I
cal'late Emeline could, too--I'll give her credit for that. She didn't
begin to look as happy as she had, and that made me feel worse than
ever. One time, I found her cryin' in the wash room, and I went up and
put my arm round her.

"'Emeline,' I says, 'don't; please don't. Don't cry. I know I ain't the
husband I'd ought to be to you, but I'm doin' my best. I'm tryin' to do
it. I ain't a genius,' I says.

"She interrupted me quick, sort of half laughin' and half cryin'. 'No,
Seth,' says she, 'you ain't, that's a fact.'

"That made me sort of mad. 'No, I ain't,' I says again; 'and if you ask
me, I'd say one in the house was enough, and to spare.'

"'I know you don't like Bennie,' she says.

"''Taint that,' says I, which was a lie. 'It ain't that,' I says; 'but
somehow I don't seem to fit around here. Bennie and me, we don't seem to
belong together.'

"'He is Abner's brother,' she says, 'and I promised Abner. I can't tell
him to go. I can't tell him to leave this house, his brother's house.'

"Now, consarn it, there was another thing. It WAS Abner's house, or
had been afore he died, and now 'twas hers. If I ever forgot that fact,
which wa'n't by no means likely to happen, Bennie D. took occasions
enough to remind me of it. So I was set back again with my canvas
flappin', as you might say.

"'No,' says I, 'course you can't. He's your brother-in-law.'

"'But you are my husband,' she says, lookin' at me kind of queer.
Anyhow, it seems kind of queer to me now. I've thought about that look
a good deal since, and sometimes I've wondered if--if . . . However,
that's all past and by.

"'Yes,' I says, pretty average bitter, 'but second husbands don't count
for much.'

"'Some of 'em don't seem to, that's a fact,' she says.

"'By jiminy,' I says, 'I don't count for much in this house.'

"'Yes?' says she. 'And whose fault is that?'

"Well, I WAS mad. 'I tell you what I CAN do,' I sings out. 'I can quit
this landlubber's job where I'm nothin' but a swab, and go to sea again,
where I'm some account. That's what I can do.'

"She turned and looked at me.

"'You promised me never to go to sea again, she says.

"'Humph!' says I; 'some promises are hard to keep.'

"'I keep mine, hard or not,' says she. 'Would you go away and leave me?'

"'You've got Brother Bennie,' says I. 'He's a genius; I ain't nothin'
but a man.'

"She laughed, pretty scornful. 'Are yo