those incomparable wives
who have a perfect command of temper, who never reply to angry words at
the moment, and who always, with exquisite calm and self-possession, pay
off every angry word by an amiable sting at a right moment--Mrs. Poole,
I say, thus softly said:

"Sammy, duck, we know what makes oo so cross; but it shan't vex oo long,
Sammy. That dreadful man comes to-morrow. He always comes the same day
of the week."

"Hold your tongue, Mrs. Poole."

"Yes, Sammy, dear, I'll hold my tongue. But Sammy shan't be imposed upon
by mendicants; for I know he is a mendicant--one of those sharpers or
blacklegs who took oo in, poor innocent Sam, in oo wild bachelor days,
and oo good heart can't bear to see him in distress; but there must be
an end to all things."

"Mrs. Poole--Mrs. Poole-will you stop your fool's jaw or not?"

"My poor dear hubby," said the angel, squeezing out a mild tear, "oo
will be in good hands to advise oo; for I've been and told Pa!"

"You have," faltered Poole, "told your father--you have!" and the
expression of his face became so ghastly that Mrs. Poole grew seriously
terrified. She had long felt that there was something very suspicious in
her husband's submission to the insolence of so rude a visitor. But she
knew that he was not brave; the man might intimidate him by threats of
personal violence. The man might probably be some poor relation, or
some one whom Poole had ruined, either in bygone discreditable sporting
'days, or in recent respectable mercantile speculations. But at that
ghastly look a glimpse of the real truth broke upon her; and she stood
speechless and appalled. At this moment there was a loud ring at the
street-door bell. Poole gathered himself up, and staggered out of the
room into the passage.

His wife remained without motion; for the first time she conceived a
fear of her husband. Presently she heard a harsh female voice in the
hall, and then a joyous exclamation from Poole himself. Recovered by
these unexpected sounds, she went mechanically forth into the passage,
just in time to see the hems of a dark-grey dress disappearing within
Poole's study, while Poole, who had opened the study-door, and was
bowing-in the iron-grey dress obsequiously, turned his eye towards his
wife, and striding towards her for a moment, whispered, "Go up-stairs
and stir not," in a tone so unlike his usual gruff accents of command,
that it cowed her out of the profound contempt with which she ha