give trouble as the sparks fly upward; and it is a funny
Providence, to my mind, as ordains for women to be so bothered with 'em.
At my niece's wedding, as we were just speaking about, 'Susan,' I says,
'I wish you happiness; and I only hope you won't live to regret your
marriage as I have done mine.' For my part, I can't see what girls want
with husbands at all; they are far better without them."

"Not they, Mrs. Hankey," replied Mrs. Bateson warmly; "any sort of a
husband is better than none, to my mind. Life is made up of naughts and
crosses; and the folks that get the crosses are better off than those
that get the naughts, though that husbands are crosses I can't pretend
to deny; but I haven't patience with single women, I haven't--they have
nothing to occupy their minds, and so they get to talking about their
health and such-like fal-lals."

"Saint Paul didn't hold with you," said Mrs. Hankey, with reproach in
her tone; "he thought that the unmarried women minded the things of the
Lord better than the married ones."

"Saint Paul didn't know much about the subject, and how could he be
expected to, being only a bachelor himself, poor soul? But if he'd had a
wife, she'd soon have told him what the unmarried women were thinking
about; and it wouldn't have been about the Lord, I'll be bound. Now take
Jemima Stubbs; does she mind the things of the Lord more than you and I
do, Mrs. Hankey, I should like to know?"

"I can't say; it is not for us to judge."

"Not she! Why, she's always worrying about that poor little brother of
hers, what's lame. I often wish that the Lord would think on him and
take him, for he's a sore burden on Jemima, he is. If you're a woman you
are bound to work for some man or another, and to see to his food and to
bear with his tantrums; and, for my part, I'd rather do it for a husband
than for a father or a brother. There's more credit in it, as you might
say."

"There's something in that, maybe."

"And after all, in spite of the botheration he gives, there's something
very cheerful in having a man about the house. They keep you alive, do
men. The last time I saw Jemima Stubbs she was as low as low could be.
'Jemima,' I says, 'you are out of spirits.' 'Mrs. Bateson,' says she,
'I am that. I wish I was either in love or in the cemetery, and I don't
much mind which.'"

"Did she cry?" asked Elisabeth, who was always absorbingly interested in
any one who was in trouble. With her, to pity was t