If this is the way I'm to be treated, I'd better ha' known it before my poor father died, and then, when I'd wanted a home, I should ha' gone elsewhere, as the choice was offered me." Mr.Glegg paused from his porridge and looked up, not with any new amazement, but simply with that quiet, habitual wonder with which we regard constant mysteries.
"Why, Mrs.G., what have I done now ?" "Done now, Mr.Glegg?
_done now ?_--I'm sorry for you." Not seeing his way to any pertinent answer, Mr.Glegg reverted to his porridge.
"There's husbands in the world," continued Mrs.Glegg, after a pause, "as 'ud have known how to do something different to siding with everybody else against their own wives.

Perhaps I'm wrong and you can teach me better.

But I've allays heard as it's the husband's place to stand by the wife, instead o' rejoicing and triumphing when folks insult her." "Now, what call have you to say that ?" said Mr.Glegg, rather warmly, for though a kind man, he was not as meek as Moses.

"When did I rejoice or triumph over you ?" "There's ways o' doing things worse than speaking out plain, Mr.
Glegg.

I'd sooner you'd tell me to my face as you make light of me, than try to make out as everybody's in the right but me, and come to your breakfast in the morning, as I've hardly slept an hour this night, and sulk at me as if I was the dirt under your feet." "Sulk at you ?" said Mr.Glegg, in a tone of angry facetiousness.
"You're like a tipsy man as thinks everybody's had too much but himself." "Don't lower yourself with using coarse language to _me_, Mr.Glegg! It makes you look very small, though you can't see yourself," said Mrs.Glegg, in a tone of energetic compassion.