"It is rather hard if a man can't ask an old friend home to dine with him once in five years, without asking the special permission of his wife." "Mr.Smith! Are you not aware that this is washing day ?" There was an instant change in my husband's countenance.

He seemed bewildered for a few moments.
"And, moreover," I continued, "are you not aware that I was to have a picked-up dinner at home, and that you were to dine at an eating house ?" "I declare!" Mr.Smith struck his hands together, and turned around once upon his heel.--"I entirely forgot about that." "What's to be done ?" said I, almost crying with vexation.

"I've nothing for dinner but fried ham and eggs." "The best we can do is the best," returned Mr.Smith.

"You can give Mr.Jones a hearty welcome, and that will compensate for any defects in the dinner.

I forewarned him that we should not entertain him very sumptuously." "You'd better tell him the whole truth at once," said I, in answer to this; "and then take him to an eating house." But my good husband would hear to nothing of this.