when I found that you so far forgot
yourself--"

"I wouldn't say any more," says he.

"I shall say all I like, and you'll please remember who you are! The
David Wisners can't afford to have it understood that they associate any
way whatsoever with the Wright family. Not even our servants can visit
acrost. I've been suspecting for some time."

"Well, that's plain enough," says he. "I don't see any use trying to
make it any plainer. There's no use rubbing it in."

"If I had a servant," says she, right pointed, "who'd look at the best
of them I'd discharge him as soon as I knew it. I've got my eye on Emmy,
my second-floor maid, too. All I can say is, you'd all better be more
careful, or, the first thing some of you know----"

"Naturally," says he, "I can imagine that," says he. "It's hell to
belong to the lower classes!"

"What do you mean, James?" says she, solemn, "I'll not have profanity
from you! Besides, you talk like a socialist person, and I'll not have
that."

"Socialist, eh? Well, I'll admit, if I had all the money in the world,"
says he, "no wall nor bars would make any difference to me. Nor they
wouldn't when I didn't have."

"James, continually you shock me beyond words!" says she, gasping. "What
words from one in your position in life!"

He didn't say much then, but only sort of growled, like he was mad.

"James," says she, "what on earth are you doing--what's that you're
eating?"

"It's good old tobacco I'm eating," says he. "I found the brand out West
and I've used no other since."

"James! James!" says she. "You to chew the filthy weed! It's
impossible!"

"No, it ain't," says he. "You watch me and I'll show you how far it is
from impossible. I chaw it and I like it, same as any other socialist;
and I want you to understand, ma'am, that I'm my own man, tobacco and
all, while I stay here. If you don't like it, fire me again!"

She begun to gasp again, like I heard her before.

"You don't care!" says she. "Nothing is sacred to you!"

Them two had me guessing. I'd heard of middle-age women getting
infaturated with chauffores. Why not gardeners, then? Something was
going on between them two, else why should she be so damned jealous? And
why should he be so damned sassy to her? I wondered what Old Man Wisner
would think if he knew what I knew now about his wife. Didn't this even
things up some? I wouldn't tell him, of course; but didn't it beat all
how many secrets I was getting into?

The