[Illustration: 013]
OOR me! Ha! I 'm sure I don't know who'd be a poor woman! I don't know
who'd tie themselves up to a man, if they knew only half they'd have
to bear. A wife must stay at home, and be a drudge, whilst a man can go
anywhere. It's enough for a wife to sit like Cinderella by the ashes,
whilst her husband can go drinking and singing at a tavern. You never
sing! How do I know you never sing? It's very well for you to say so;
but if I could hear you, I dare say you're among the worst of 'em.
“And now, I suppose, it will be the tavern every night. If you think I'm
going to sit up for you, Mr. Caudle, you 're very much mistaken. No: and
I'm not going to get out of my warm bed to let you in, either. No: nor
Susan shan't sit up for you. No: nor you shan't have a latch-key. I'm
not going to sleep with the door upon the latch, to be murdered before
the morning.
“Faugh! Pah! Whewgh! That filthy tobacco smoke! It's enough to kill any
decent woman. You know I hate tobacco, and yet you will do it. You don't
smoke yourself! What of that? If you go among people who _do_ smoke,
you 're just as bad, or worse. You might as well smoke--indeed, better.
Better smoke yourself than come home with other people's smoke in your
hair.
“I never knew any good come to a man who went to a tavern. Nice
companions he picks up there! Yes; people who make it a boast to treat
their wives like slaves, and ruin their families. There's that wretch,
Prettyman. See what he's come to. He doesn't now get home till two in
the morning; and then in what a state! He begins quarrelling with the
door-mat, that his poor wife may be afraid to speak to him. A mean
wretch! But don't you think I'll be like Mrs. Prettyman. No: I wouldn't
put up with it from the best man that ever trod. You 'll not make me
afraid to speak to you, however you may swear at the door-mat. No, Mr.
Caudle, that you won't.
“You don't intend to stay out till two in the morning! How do you know
what you 'll do when you get among such people? Men can't answer for
themselves when they get boozing one with another. They never think of
their poor wives, who are grieving and wearing themselves out at home.
A nice headache you 'll have tomorrow morning--or rather _this_ morning;
for it must be past twelve. You won't have a headache! It 's very well
for you to say so, but I know you will; and then you may nurse yourself
for me. Ha! that filthy tobacco again! No: I shall not go to sleep like
a good soul! How's people to go to sleep when they 're suffocated?
“Yes, Mr. Caudle, you'll be nice and ill in the morning! But don't
you think I'm going to let you have your breakfast in bed, like Mrs.
Pretty-man. I'll not be such a fool. No: nor I won't have discredit
brought upon the house by sending for soda-water early, for all the
neighbourhood to say, 'Caudle was drunk last night!' No: I've some
regard for the dear children, if you havn't. No: nor you shan't have
broth for dinner. Not a neck of mutton crosses my threshold, I can tell
you.
“You won't want soda, and you won't want broth! All the better. You
wouldn't get 'em if you did, I can assure you.------ Dear, dear, dear!
That filthy tobacco! I'm sure it's enough to make me as bad as you
are. Talking about getting divorced,--I'm sure tobacco ought to be good
grounds. How little does a woman think when she marries, that she gives
herself up to be poisoned! You men contrive to have it all of your
own side, you do. Now if I was to go and leave you and the children, a
pretty noise there'd be! You, however, can go and smoke no end of
pipes------ You didn't smoke! It's all the same, Mr. Caudle, if you go
among smoking people. Folks are known by their company. You'd better
smoke yourself, than bring me home the pipes of all the world.
“Yes, I see how it will be. Now you 've once gone to a tavern, you 'll
always be going. You 'll be coming home tipsy every night; and tumbling
down and breaking your leg, and putting out your shoulder; and bringing
all sorts of disgrace and expense upon us. And then you 'll be getting
into a street fight--oh! I know your temper too well to doubt it, Mr.
Caudle--and be knocking down some of the police. And then I know what
will follow. It _must_ follow. Yes, you 'll be sent for a month or six
weeks to the treadmill. Pretty thing that, for a respectable tradesman,
Mr. Caudle, to be put upon the treadmill with all sorts of thieves and
vagabonds, and--there, again, that horrible tobacco!--and riff-raff of
every kind. I should like to know how your children are to hold up their
heads, after their father has been upon the treadmill?---- No: I _won't_
go to sleep. And I'm not talking of what's impossible. I know it will
all happen--every bit of it. If it wasn't for the dear children, you
might be ruined and I wouldn't so much as speak about it, but--oh, dear,
dear! at least you might go where they smoke _good_ tobacco--but I
can't forget that I'm their mother. At least, they shall have _one_
parent.
“Taverns! Never did a man go to a tavern who didn't die a beggar. And
how your pot-companions will laugh at you when they see your name in the
_Gazette!_ For it _must_ happen. Your business is sure to fall off; for
what respectable people will buy toys for their children of a drunkard?
You 're not a drunkard! No: but you will be--it's all the same.
“You've begun by staying out till midnight. By-and-by 't will be all
night. But don't you think, Mr. Caudle, you shall ever have a key. I
know you. Yes; you'd do exactly like that Prettyman, and what did he do,
only last Wednesday? Why, he let himself in about four in the morning,
and brought home with him his pot-companion. His dear wife woke at six,
and saw Prettyman's dirty boots at her bed-side. And where was the
wretch, her husband? Why, he was drinking down stairs--swilling. Yes;
worse than a midnight robber, he'd taken the keys out of his dear wife's
pockets--ha! what that poor creature has to bear!--and had got at the
brandy. A pretty thing for a wife to wake at six in the morning, and
instead of her husband to see his dirty boots!
“But I 'll not be made your victim, Mr. Caudle, not I. You shall never
get at my keys, for they shall lie under my pillow--under my own head,
Mr. Caudle.
“You'll be ruined, but if I can help it, you shall ruin nobody but
yourself.
“Oh! that hor--hor--hor--i--ble tob--ac--co!”