ich was not part and parcel of the
rules and regulations of the house in committee. Besides, the
accommodation was needless.

"Needless!" exclaimed hubby. "Would you degenerate a lady and gentleman
wilfully. I will leave your fire-trap at once and cast anchor at the
'Next Best.'" The proprietor argued that his competitor was welcome to
such pickings, so he made no comment on the debate.

The "Next Best" was "full up," as it always is, so they carried the
living corpse out on a stretcher, and hubby went batching with his
burden in a three-roomed house on Bancroft Street. When it became
hubby's duty to cook the meals and carry half of them to bed for his
better half every morning before breakfast he began to taste silly and
smell sort of henpeck like. He persisted humbly, lovingly,
self-sacrificingly, henpeckedly, however, until one morning his sun rose
brighter than it had ever done before and he saw a faint glimmer of
light through the wool that was hanging in front of him.

"Perhaps there is such a commodity as superfluous personal sacrifice to
one's matrimonial obligations," he soliloquized. "Perhaps this spouse of
mine with the pre-historic constitution can be cured by an abstract
treatment. Is she ill, or is she playing a wild, deceitful part? Is she
sitting on me with all her weight?" He was willing to allow her the
usual proportion of female indisposition, but a continued story of such
nightmare proportions was beginning to unstring his physical telephone
system. So, to we who have no wool over our eyes, this was one of the
most pitiful and criminal cases of selfish indolence, perhaps coupled
with a belief that a husband, through his sympathy, will love a woman
the more because of her suffering. No supposition, of course, could be
farther from the concrete--a husband wants, requires, admires, loves, a
healthy, active working-partner. Failing this the husband as a husband
is down and out.

When hubby began to realize this an individual reformation was at the
dawning. The very next morning no breakfast arrived by private parcel
post.

"Harry," she exclaimed, "bring me my porridge and hot cakes; I am
starving."

"If you are starving get up and eat in your stall at the table," said
Harry, sarcastically, although it pained him.

"Harry!" she shouted, "you selfish beast!"

For diplomatic reasons Harry was silent.

Harry made an abrupt exit without waiting for adjournment, and went up
town. A new life seemed