A cross man I hate above all things. What right has he to murder the
sunshine of the day? What right has he to assassinate the joy of life?
When you go home you ought to feel the light there is in the house;
if it is in the night it will burst out of the doors and windows and
illuminate the darkness. It is just as well to go home a ray of sunshine
as an old, sour, cross curmudgeon, who thinks he is the head of the
family. Wise men think their mighty brains have been in a turmoil; they
have been thinking about who will be alderman from the Fifth ward; they
have been thinking about politics; great and mighty questions have been
engaging their minds; they have bought calico at eight cents or six, and
want to sell it for seven. Think of the intellectual strain that must
have been upon a man, and when he gets home everybody else in the house
must look out for his comfort. Head of the house, indeed! I don't like
him a bit!