"A poor unfortunate woman," answered Mrs.Weazle, "upon whom I beg you, for Christ's sake, to have compassion." "Are you maid or wife," said he.

"Wife, to my sorrow," said she.

"Who, or where is your husband ?" continued he.

"My husband," replied Mrs.Weazel, "is an officer in the army and was left sick at the last inn where we dined." "You must be mistaken, madam," said he, "for I myself saw him get into the waggon this afternoon.

But pray what smell is that?
Sure your lapdog has befouled himself; let me catch hold of the nasty cur, I'll teach him better manners." Here he laid hold of one of Weazel's legs, and pulled him out from under his wife's petticoat, where he had concealed himself.