affairs had grown intolerable, and, meditating
in the solitude of his office, Mr. Bellamy resolved to assert himself
once and for all, and set matters on a proper footing, and Mrs.
Bellamy in her place. But it is one thing for husbands of the Bellamy
stamp to form high-stomached resolutions, and another for them to put
those resolutions into active and visible operation on wives of the
Mrs. Bellamy stamp. Indeed, had it not been for a little incident
about to be detailed, it is doubtful if Mr. Bellamy would have ever
come to the scratch at all.

When George had gone, Mrs. Bellamy sat down in by no means the
sweetest of tempers to think. But thinking in this instance proved an
unprofitable occupation, and she gave it up, in order to admire the
sapphire necklace that lay upon her knee. At that moment her husband
entered the room, but she took no notice, merely going on examining
the stones. After moving about a little, as though to attract
attention, the gentleman spoke.

"I have managed to get home to lunch, my dear."

"Indeed.

"Well, you might take a little notice of me."

"Why? Is there anything remarkable about you this morning?"

"No, there is not; but, remarkable or not, a man who has been fool
enough"--Mr. Bellamy laid great emphasis on the word "fool"--"to get
married has a right to expect when he comes into his own house that he
will have a little notice taken of him, and not be as completely
overlooked as--as though he were a tub of butter in a grocer's shop;"
and he pugged out his chest, rubbed his hands, and looked defiant.

The lady laid her head back on the chair, and laughed with exquisite
enjoyment.

"Really, my dear John, you will kill me," she said at length.

"May I ask," he replied, looking as though there was nothing in the
world that he would like better, "what you are laughing at?"

"Your slightly vulgar but happy simile; it is easy to see where you
draw your inspiration from. If you had only said butterine, inferior
butter, you know, the counterfeit article, it would have been
perfect."

Her husband gave a glance at his tubby little figure in the glass.

"Am I to understand that you refer to me as 'butterine,' Mrs.
Bellamy?"

"Oh! certainly yes, if you like; but, butter or not, you will melt if
you lose your temper so."

"I have not lost my temper, madam; I am perfectly cool," he replied,
positively gasping with fury. Here his eye fell upon the necklace.
"What necklace is that?