Reynolds has given me notice."

"Oh," said I, not desisting (as is the callous way of husbands the world
over) from the absorbing and delicate manipulation of my tie. "What
for?"

"Liosha has just gone for her with a pair of scissors."

"Horrible!" said I, getting the ends even. "I can imagine nothing more
finnikin in ghastliness than to cut anybody's throat with nail scissors,
especially when the subject is unwilling."

Barbara pished and pshawed. It was no occasion for levity.

"I agree," said I. The dressing hour is the calmest and most philosophic
period of the day.

Barbara came up to me blue eyed and innocent, and with a traitorous
jerk, undid my beautiful white bow.

"There, now listen."

And I, dilapidated wretch, had to listen to the tale of crime. It
appeared that Reynolds, my wife's maid, in putting Liosha into a
ready-made gown--a model gown I believe is the correct term--insisted on
her being properly corseted. Liosha, agonisingly constricted, rebelled.
The maid was obdurate. Liosha flew at her with a pair of scissors. I
think I should have done the same. Reynolds bolted from the room. So
should I have done. I sympathised with both of them. Reynolds fled to
her mistress, and, declaring it to be no part of her duty to wait on
tigers, gave notice.

"We can't lose Reynolds," said I.

"Of course we can't."

"And we can't pack Liosha off at a moment's notice, so as to please
Reynolds."

"Oh, you're too wise altogether," said my wife, and left me to the
tranquil completion of my dressing.

Liosha came down to dinner very subdued, after a short, sharp interview
with Barbara, who, for so small a person, can put on a prodigious air of
authority. As a punishment for bloodthirsty behaviour she had made her
wear the gown in the manner prescribed by Reynolds; and she had
apologised to Reynolds, who thereupon withdrew her notice. So serenity
again prevailed.

In some respects Liosha was very childish. The receipt of letters, no
matter from whom--even bills, receipts and circulars--gave her
overwhelming joy and sense of importance. This harmless craze, however,
led to another outburst of ferocity. Meeting the postman outside the
gate she demanded a letter. The man looked through his bundle.

"Nothing for you this morning, ma'am."

"I wrote to the dressmaker yesterday," said Liosha, "and you've got the
reply right there."

"I assure you I haven't," said the postman.

"You're a liar," cried Liosha,