The Adventures of Don Lavington | Page 4

pretty little bantam hen.
This was three months before the scene just described, but though Jem spoke in authoritative tones to the men, it was with bated breath to his little wife, who was standing in the doorway looking as fierce as a kitten, when Jem walked up in company with his young master.
"Which I will not find fault before Master Lindon, Jem," she said; "but you know I do like you to be home punctual to tea."
"Yes, my dear, of course, of course," said Jem, apologetically. "Not much past time, and had to shut up first."
"That's what you always say when you're late. You don't know, Master Don, what a life he leads me."
"'Tain't true, Master Don," cried Jem. "She's always a-wherritting me."
"Now I appeal to Master Don: was it me, sir, as was late? There's the tea ready, and the bread and butter cut, and the watercresses turning limp, and the flies getting at the s'rimps. It arn't your fault, sir, I know, and I'm not grumbling, but there never was such a place as this for flies."
"It's the sugar, Sally," said Don, who had sauntered aimlessly in with Jem, and as he stared round the neat little kitchen with the pleasant meal all ready, he felt as if he should like to stay to tea instead of going home.
"Yes, it's the sugar, sir, I know; and you'd think it would sweeten some people's temper, but it don't."
"Which if it's me you mean, and you're thinking of this morning--"
"Which I am, Jem, and you ought to be ashamed. You grumbled over your breakfast, and you reg'larly worried your dinner, and all on account of a button."
"Well, then, you should sew one on. When a man's married he does expect to find buttons on his clean shirts."
"Yes, and badly enough you want 'em, making 'em that sticky as you do."
"I can't help that; it's only sugar."
"Only sugar indeed! And if it was my last words I'd say it--there was a button on the neck."
"Well, I know that," cried Jem; "and what's the good of a button being on, if it comes off directly you touch it? Is it any good, Mas' Don?"
"Oh, don't ask me," cried the lad, half-amused, half annoyed, and wishing they'd ask him to tea.
"He dragged it off, Master Don."
"I didn't."
"You did, Jem, and you know you did, just to aggravate me."
"Wasn't half sewn on."
"It was. I can't sew your buttons on with copper wire."
"You two are just like a girl and boy," cried Don. "Here you have everything comfortable about you, and a good place, and you're always quarrelling."
"Well, it's his fault, sir."
"No, sir, it's her'n."
"It's both your faults, and you ought to be ashamed of yourselves."
"I'm not," said Sally; "and I wish I'd never seen him."
"And I'm sure I wish the same," said Jem despondently. "I never see such a temper."
"There, Master Don," cried the droll-looking little Dutch doll of a woman. "That's how he is always going on."
"There, Jem, now you've made your poor little wife cry. You are the most discontented fellow I ever saw."
"Come, I like that, Master Don; you've a deal to brag about, you have. Why, you're all at sixes and sevens at home."
This was such a home thrust that Don turned angrily and walked out of the place.
"There!" cried Sally. "I always knew how it would be. Master Don was the best friend we had, and now you've offended him, and driven him away."
"Shouldn't ha' said nasty things then," grumbled Jem, sitting down and attacking his tea.
"Now he'll go straight to his uncle and tell him what a man you are."
"Let him," said Jem, with his mouth full of bread and butter.
"And of course you'll lose your place, and we shall be turned out into the street to starve."
"Will you be quiet, Sally? How's a man to eat his tea with you going on like that?"
"Turned out into the world without a chance of getting another place. Oh! It's too bad. Why did I ever marry such a man as you?"
"'Cause you were glad of the chance," grumbled Jem, raising his hand to pour out some tea, but it was pushed aside indignantly, and the little woman busily, but with a great show of indignation, filled and sweetened her husband's cup, which she dabbed down before him, talking all the while, and finishing with,--
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Jem."
"I am," he grumbled. "Ashamed that I was ever such a stupid as to marry a girl who's always dissatisfied. Nice home you make me."
"And a nice home you make me, sir; and don't eat your victuals so fast. It's like being at the wild beast show."
"That's right; go on," grumbled Jem, doubling his rate of consumption. "Grudge me my meals now. Good job if we could undo it