Trials and Confessions of a Housekeeper | Page 8

husband, as he arose up in bed one morning, a day or two afterwards, and snuffed the air. "And, as I live, the fire in the heater is all out again! I'll have some light on this subject, see if I don't."
And he sprung upon the floor, at the same time hurriedly putting on his dressing gown and a pair of slippers.
"Where are you going?" said I, seeing him moving towards the door.
"To find out where this fishy smell comes from," he replied, disappearing as he spoke.
In about five minutes, Mr. Smith returned.
"Well, if that don't beat all!" he exclaimed, as he re-entered the chamber.
"What?" I very naturally enquired.
"I've found out all about that fishy smell," said he.
"What about it? Where does it come from?"
"You wouldn't guess in a month of Sundays! Well, this is a great world! Live and learn!"
"Explain yourself, Mr. Smith. I'm all impatience."
"I will; and in a few words. The fire was out in the heater."
"Yes."
"And I very naturally took my way down to where I expected to find our lady at work in the re-kindling process."
"Well?"
"Sure enough, there she was, kindling the fire with a vengeance."
"With what?" I asked. "With a vengeance?"
"Yes, with a vengeance to my pocket. She had the oil can in her hands, and was pouring its contents freely into the furnace, in order to quicken combustion. I now understand all about this fishy smell."
"And I all about the remarkable disappearance of a gallon of oil in four days. Kindling the fire with dollar and forty cent oil!"
"Even so!"
"What did you say to her, Mr. Smith?"
"Nothing. But I rather think she'll not want me to look at her again, the huzzy!"
"Kindling fire with my best sperm oil! Well, I can't get over that!"
Something in this wise I continued to ejaculate, now and then, until my astonishment fairly wore itself out.
I didn't consider it worth while to say any thing to Hannah when I went down stairs, thinking it best to let the look my husband spoke of, do its work. By the way, I don't much wonder that she was frightened at his look--for he can--But I forgot--I am speaking of my husband, and he might happen to read this.
Of course, Hannah's days in my house were numbered. No faith was to be placed in a creature who could so shamefully destroy a useful article placed in her hands. If she would burn up the oil, it was but fair to infer that she would as remorselessly make way with other things. So I parted with her. She begged me to let her stay, and made all sorts of promises. But I was immovable.
Whether I bettered myself in the change, is somewhat doubtful.
CHAPTER IV.
CHEAP FURNITURE.

ONE of the cardinal virtues, at least for housekeepers who are not overburdened in the matter of income, is economy. In the early part of our married life, Mr. Smith and myself were forced to the practice of this virtue, or incur debt, of which both of us had a natural horror. For a few years we lived in the plain style with which we had begun the world. But, when our circumstances improved, we very naturally desired to improve the appearance of things in our household. Our cane seat chairs and ingrain carpet looked less and less attractive every day. And, when we went out to spend an evening, socially, with our friends, the contrast between home and abroad was strikingly apparent to our minds.
"I think," said Mr. Smith to me, one day, "that it is time we re-furnished our parlors."
"If you can afford the outlay," I remarked.
"It won't cost a great deal," he returned.
"Not over three hundred dollars," said I.
Mr. Smith shook his head as he answered: "Half that sum ought to be sufficient. What will we want?"
"A dozen mahogany chairs to begin with," I replied. "There will be sixty dollars."
"You don't expect to pay five dollars a-piece for chairs?" said my husband, in a tone of surprise.
"I don't think you can get good ones for less."
"Indeed we can. I was looking at a very handsome set yesterday; and the man only asked four dollars for them. I don't in the least doubt that I could get them for three and a half."
"And a dear bargain you would make of that, I do not in the least doubt. It is poor economy, Mr. Smith, to buy cheap furniture. It costs a great deal more in the end, than good furniture, and never gives you any satisfaction."
"But these were good chairs, Jane. As good as I would wish to look at. The man said they were from one of the best shops in the city, and of superior workmanship and finish."
As I make it a point never to prolong an argument with my husband, when I see