ha was very ill-used. If there were no
Marthas there would never be anything fit to eat. But it's odd how
sure a wife is to be scolded. If I did nothing at all, that wouldn't
please a busy, hard-working man like you."

"I don't know that I have scolded,--not as yet."

"Are you going to begin?"

"Not to scold, my dear. Looking back, can you remember that I ever
scolded you?"

"I can remember a great many times when you ought."

"But to tell you the truth, I don't like all that you have done here.
I cannot see that it was necessary."

"People make changes in their gardens without necessity sometimes."

"But these changes are made because of your guests. Had they been
made to gratify your own taste I would have said nothing,--although
even in that case I think you might have told me what you proposed to
do."

"What;--when you are so burdened with work that you do not know how
to turn?"

"I am never so burdened that I cannot turn to you. But, as you
know, that is not what I complain of. If it were done for yourself,
though it were the wildest vagary, I would learn to like it. But it
distresses me to think that what might have been good enough for our
friends before should be thought to be insufficient because of the
office I hold. There is a--a--a--I was almost going to say vulgarity
about it which distresses me."

"Vulgarity!" she exclaimed, jumping up from her sofa.

"I retract the word. I would not for the world say anything that
should annoy you;--but pray, pray do not go on with it." Then again
he left her.

Vulgarity! There was no other word in the language so hard to bear as
that. He had, indeed, been careful to say that he did not accuse her
of vulgarity,--but nevertheless the accusation had been made. Could
you call your friend a liar more plainly than by saying to him that
you would not say that he lied? They dined together, the two boys,
also, dining with them, but very little was said at dinner. The
horrid word was clinging to the lady's ears, and the remembrance of
having uttered the word was heavy on the man's conscience. He had
told himself very plainly that the thing was vulgar, but he had not
meant to use the word. When uttered it came even upon himself as a
surprise. But it had been uttered; and, let what apology there may
be made, a word uttered cannot be retracted. As he looked across
the table at his wife, he saw that the word had been taken in deep
dudgeon.

She escaped, to the writi