dinner humour. When a man is maintaining a whole household on his own shoulders, and working hard to maintain it well, it is not right that he should be brought to book because he keeps the servants up half an hour later than usual to wash the tea-things. It is very proper that the idle members of the establishment should conform to hours, but these hours must give way to his requirements. In those old days of which we have spoken so often he might have had his tea at twelve, one, two, or three without a murmur. Though their staff of servants then was scanty enough, there was never a difficulty then in supplying any such want for him. If no other pair of hands could boil the kettle, there was one pair of hands there which no amount of such work on his behalf could tire. But now, because he had come in for his tea at ten o'clock, he was asked if he intended to keep the servants out of their beds all night!
'Oh laws!' said Miss Biggs, jumping up from her chair as though she had been electrified.
Mr. Furnival did not think it consistent with his dignity to keep up any dispute in the presence of Miss Biggs, and therefore sat himself down in his accustomed chair without further speech. 'Would you wish to have tea now, Mr. Furnival?' asked his wife again, putting considerable stress upon the word now.
'I don't care about it,' said he.
'And I am sure I don't at this late hour,' said Miss Biggs. 'But so tired as you are, dear—'
'Never mind me, Martha; as for myself, I shall take nothing now.' And then they all sat without a word for the space of some five minutes. 'If you like to go, Martha,' said Mrs. Furnival, don't mind waiting for me.
'Oh, very well,' and then Miss Biggs took her bed-candle and left the room. Was it not hard upon her that she should be forced to absent herself at this moment, when the excitement of the battle was about to begin in earnest? Her footsteps lingered as she slowly retreated from the drawing-room door, and for one instant she absolutely paused, standing still with eager ears. It was but for an instant, and then she went on up stairs, out of hearing, and sitting herself down by her bedside allowed the battle to rage in her imagination.
Mr. Furnival would have sat there silent till his wife had gone also, and so the matter would have terminated for that evening,—had she so willed it. But she had been thinking of her miseries; and, having come to some sort of resolution to speak of then openly, what time could she find more appropriate for doing so than the present? 'Tom,' she said,—and as she spoke there was still a twinkle of the old love in her eye, 'we are not going on together as well as we should do,—not lately. Would it not be well to make a change before it is too late?'
