e
knows that she is above being snubbed, and Mrs. Smiley knew this of
herself as well as any lady; and if Moulder, in his wrath, should
call her Mother Smiley, or give her to understand that he regarded
her as an old woman, that lady would probably walk herself off in a
great dudgeon,--herself and her share in the brick-field. To tell the
truth, Mrs. Smiley required that considerable deference should be
paid to her.

Mrs. Moulder knew well what was her husband's present ailment. He had
dined as early as one, and on his journey up from Leeds to London had
refreshed himself with drink only. That last glass of brandy which
he had taken at the Peterborough station had made him cross. If she
could get him to swallow some hot food before Mrs. Smiley came, all
might yet be well.

"And what's it to be, M.?" she said in her most insinuating
voice--"there's a lovely chop down stairs, and there's nothing so
quick as that."

"Chop!" he said, and it was all he did say at the moment.

"There's a 'am in beautiful cut," she went on, showing by the urgency
of her voice how anxious she was on the subject.

For the moment he did not answer her at all, but sat facing the fire,
and running his fat fingers through his uncombed hair. "Mrs. Smiley!"
he said; "I remember when she was kitchen-maid at old Pott's."

"She ain't nobody's kitchen-maid now," said Mrs. Moulder, almost
prepared to be angry in the defence of her friend.

"And I never could make out when it was that Smiley married
her,--that is, if he ever did."

"Now, Moulder, that's shocking of you. Of course he married her. She
and I is nearly an age as possible, though I think she is a year over
me. She says not, and it ain't nothing to me. But I remember the
wedding as if it was yesterday. You and I had never set eyes on each
other then, M." This last she added in a plaintive tone, hoping to
soften him.

"Are you going to keep me here all night without anything?" he then
said. "Let me have some whisky,--hot, with;--and don't stand there
looking at nothing."

"But you'll take some solids with it, Moulder? Why it stands to
reason you'll be famished."

"Do as you're bid, will you, and give me the whisky. Are you going to
tell me when I'm to eat and when I'm to drink, like a child?" This he
said in that tone of voice which made Mrs. Moulder know that he meant
to be obeyed; and though she was sure that he would make himself
drunk, she was compelled to minister to his desir