How to Cook Husbands - Part 6
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Part 6

The great dome rich with gems, and deep with peace, bent over her, and by and by her sobs ceased.

"You are trying, I know," I reiterated, "but you don't understand-you can't, for you have only a woman's nature."

"What should I have, pray?"

"A woman's, and a man's, and a child's, to be a perfect wife and mother; that is, you must be able to comprehend them all. Your husband came home cross to-night."

"Yes, irritable toward us all, and I so hoped to have everything pleasant this evening."

"He, too, had his hopes to-day, and they were flung to the ground, and broken before his eyes."

"What do you mean?"

"The special agent of a company that he has for a year been working to get, has been in town."

"Yes, I know."

"Yesterday this agent led him to suppose he was to be the favored one.

All to-day he has been working toward that end, and near night he heard that this man had gone, without even saying good-by. You remember that Mr. Purblind left home in a hurry this morning, with scarcely a bite of breakfast; he took very little luncheon, and--"

"Well, we had dinner at the usual time, if he'd said he was hungry, I'd have hurried it."

"He was not hungry-he was much more than that. Did you ever see a vessel whose fuel is well-nigh exhausted drag herself into port? What is the first thing to be done?"

"I don't know-replenish her?"

"Yes, put coal on board. Now when I saw your husband walk up to his front door, I said to myself, he needs coaling. A good home should be a good coaling station; remember that."

"But what of me?" she asked with some impatience, "I, too, have my worries and exertions-do I never need coaling?"

"Frequently," I answered.

"Well, who is to coal me, I should like to know?"

"Yourself."

"That's rather one-sided, I think. Why shouldn't my husband look to that?"

"My dear," I said earnestly, "I never knew but one man who saw when his wife needed coaling, and attended to her wants. When he died (for the G.o.ds loved him), it was found that his shoulder-blades were abnormally large-at least so the doctors said, but I knew all the time that his wings had budded."

"Well, this life is too much for me," murmured Mrs. Purblind drearily.

"Then don't attempt the next."

"I shan't, if I can help it, and yet I'm like to soon, for Mr.

Purblind's mother is coming on a visit to us, and I know she'll worry the breath out of me."

"Don't let her."

"How can I help it?"

"By keeping the peace with her."

"Oh, I've tried that before; I've done everything I could for her, and deferred to her, and ignored myself until I seemed to fade out of existence, but it didn't work."

"Oh, yes, it did, for it made her ten times as troublesome as before."

"It certainly did, but what do you mean?"

"I mean that a mother-in-law is like a child, in that she is spoiled by having her own way."

"But what can I do?"

"Walk calmly on, doing the best you can, but recognizing your own authority and dignity, and finally she will come to recognize it. Be mistress of your own household, and director of your own children-all this quietly and pleasantly, but without wavering, and in the end she will respect and probably admire you, though she will never think you do just right, or are just the woman who ought to have married her son."

"But I've always been in hopes of making her love me as she loves her own daughter."

"That is what every romantic woman starts out with, but by and by, in the storm and stress of domestic life, that ideal is cast overboard, as a struggling ship throws its extra cargo over the rail."

"Why is it, I wonder, a man never fights with his father-in-law. Men are said to be naturally pugnacious."

"That's a mistake, my dear; a man would go several miles any day to avoid a fuss; it is we women who delight in sc.r.a.ps. A man occasionally has a little set-to with the girl's father, before he gains his consent to the engagement, but once he's married, it's the old lady he has to train for, or I should say who trains for him, because as a general thing it is she who gives battle, not he. The real conflict, however, takes place between the two women-the wife and her mother-in-law. If you want to see 'de fur fly,' as the darkies say, you must always come over to the feminine side of the house. Then you'll have your fill of explanations, expostulations, and recriminations."

"Well, certainly I never had any trouble with my father-in-law."

"Trouble! Do you know what I'd do, if I had a troublesome father-in-law?"

"No-murder him?"

"Murder him, indeed! Woman, have you no mercantile instinct? That would be like killing the goose that lays the golden egg. Why, the first showman would take the old gentleman off my hands, and pay me a handsome price for him. You must know that a troublesome father-in-law is so rare that the public would flock to see him. But you couldn't get anything for a troublesome mother-in-law. There are too many families trying to get rid of them, at any price. The sale of parents-in-law is governed by the same laws as other commodities, and these interfering, mischief-making mothers-in-law have become a drug in the market."

"Well, there is Mrs. Earnest, her mother-in-law is a jewel."

"Ah, now you mention a most valuable piece of property, for a woman like that-who models her conduct on the pattern of Aunt Betsey Trotwood, in David Copperfield's household, is a jewel of such magnitude and brilliancy, that she will some day be seen sparkling in Abraham's bosom, from a distance of millions of miles."

"Well, how would you cook mothers-in-law?"

"Make a delicious dish of your husband and then take a pinch-a good pinch-of mother-in-law, and throw her in as 'sa.s.s.' Speaking of this, remember that too many cooks spoil the broth, and wife and mother-in-law combined generally make a pretty mess of the husband."

VI

I was feeling a trifle dull and heavy one afternoon, and after several vain efforts to do good work, decided that a vigorous tramp would set my blood to flowing, and the wheels of my thinking mill to revolving. So out I started toward the lake, as usual. There had been a storm off the Michigan sh.o.r.e, and we were just beginning to get evidence of it, in the big waves that were tumbling on the beach, I like the lake in this mood-in any mood, indeed, but especially when it is rough and wild.

After quite a brisk tramp along, or near the beach, I turned back; but before going home again, I wished to come in closer contact with the tumultuous waters. At risk of being wet by the spray, which the waves were tossing on high, much as an excited horse tosses the foam from his chafing mouth, I climbed around the little bathing house, set on the sh.o.r.e end of the pier, and then boldly walked out, and took my seat in the midst of the tumult.