"Never mind your cheque-book. I took care of that.

"WHAT BUSINESS HAD I TO TAKE IT OUT OF YOUR POCKET?

"Every business. No, no. If you choose to go to public dinners, why--as I'm only your wife--I can't help it. But I know what fools men are made of there; and if I know it, you never take your cheque- book again with you. What? Didn't I see your name down last year for ten pounds? 'Job Caudle, Esq., 10 pounds.' It looked very well in the newspapers, of course: and you thought yourself a somebody, when they knocked the tavern tables; but I only wish I'd been there-- yes, I only wish I'd been in the gallery. If I wouldn't have told a piece of my mind, I'm not alive. Ten pounds indeed! and the world thinks you a very fine person for it. I only wish I could bring the world here, and show 'em what's wanted at home. I think the world would alter their mind then; yes--a little.

"What do you say?

"A WIFE HAS NO RIGHT TO PICK HER HUSBAND'S POCKET?

"A pretty husband you are, to talk in that way! Never mind: you can't prosecute her for it--or I've no doubt you would; none at all.

Some men would do anything. What?

"YOU'VE A BIT OF A HEADACHE?

"I hope you have--and a good bit, too. You've been to the right place for it. No--I won't hold my tongue. It's all very well for you men to go to taverns--and talk--and toast--and hurrah--and--I wonder you're not all ashamed of yourselves to drink the Queen's health with all the honours, I believe, you call it--yes, pretty honours you pay to the s.e.x--I say, I wonder you're not ashamed to drink that blessed creature's health, when you've only to think how you use your own wives at home. But the hypocrites that the men are- -oh!

"WHERE'S YOUR WATCH?

"Haven't I told you? It's under your pillow--there, you needn't be feeling for it. I tell you it's under your pillow.

"IT'S ALL RIGHT?

"Yes; a great deal you know of what's right just now! Ha! was there ever any poor soul used as I am!

"I'M A DEAR CREATURE?

"Pah! Mr. Caudle! I've only to say, I'm tired of your conduct-- quite tired, and don't care how soon there's an end of it.

"WHY DID I TAKE YOUR CHEQUE-BOOK?

"I've told you--to save you from ruin, Mr. Caudle.

"YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BE RUINED?

"Ha! you don't know anything when you're out! I know what they do at those public dinners--charities, they call 'em; pretty charities!

True Charity, I believe, always dines at home. I know what they do: the whole system's a trick. No: I'M NOT A STONY-HEARTED CREATURE: and you ought to be ashamed to say so of your wife and the mother of your children,--but you'll not make me cry to-night, I can tell you-- I was going to say that--oh! you're such an aggravating man I don't know what I was going to say!

"THANK HEAVEN?

"What for? I don't see that there's anything to thank Heaven about!

I was going to say, I know the trick of public dinners. They get a lord, or a duke, if they can catch him--anything to make people say they dined with n.o.bility, that's it--yes, they get one of these people, with a star perhaps in his coat, to take the chair--and to talk all sorts of sugar-plum things about charity--and to make foolish men, with wine in 'em, feel that they've no end of money; and then--shutting their eyes to their wives and families at home--all the while that their own faces are red and flushed like poppies, and they think to-morrow will never come--then they get 'em to put their hand to paper. Then they make 'em pull out their cheques. But I took your book, Mr. Caudle--you couldn't do it a second time. What are you laughing at?

"NOTHING?

"It's no matter: I shall see it in the paper to-morrow; for if you gave anything, you were too proud to hide it. I know YOUR charity.

"WHERE'S YOUR WATCH?

"Haven't I told you fifty times where it is? In the pocket--over your head--of course. Can't you hear it tick? No: you can hear nothing to-night.

"And now, Mr. Caudle, I should like to know whose hat you've brought home? You went out with a beaver worth three-and-twenty shillings-- the second time you've worn it--and you bring home a thing that no Jew in his senses would give me fivepence for. I couldn't even get a pot of primroses--and you know I always turn your old hats into roots--not a pot of primroses for it. I'm certain of it now--I've often thought it--but now I'm sure that some people dine out only to change their hats.

"WHERE'S YOUR WATCH?

"Caudle, you're bringing me to an early grave!"

WE HOPE THAT CAUDLE WAS PENITENT FOR HIS CONDUCT; INDEED, THERE IS, WE THINK, EVIDENCE THAT HE WAS SO: FOR TO THIS LECTURE HE HAS APPENDED NO COMMENT. THE MAN HAD NOT THE FACE TO DO IT.

LECTURE XXI--MR. CAUDLE HAS NOT ACTED "LIKE A HUSBAND" AT THE WEDDING DINNER

"Ah, me! It's no use wishing--none at all: but I do wish that yesterday fourteen years could come back again. Little did I think, Mr. Caudle, when you brought me home from church, your lawful wedded wife--little, I say, did I think that I should keep my wedding dinner in the manner I have done to-day. Fourteen years ago! Yes, I see you now, in your blue coat with bright b.u.t.tons, and your white watered-satin waistcoat, and a moss-rose bud in your b.u.t.ton-hole, which you said was like me. What?

"YOU NEVER TALKED SUCH NONSENSE?

"Ha! Mr. Caudle, you don't know what you talked that day--but I do.

Yes; and you then sat at the table as if your face, as I may say, was b.u.t.tered with happiness, and--What? No, Mr. Caudle, don't say that; _I_ have not wiped the b.u.t.ter off--not I. If you above all men are not happy, you ought to be, gracious knows!

"Yes, I WILL talk of fourteen years ago. Ha! you sat beside me then, and picked out all sorts of nice things for me. You'd have given me pearls and diamonds to eat if I could have swallowed 'em. Yes, I say, you sat beside me, and--What do you talk about?

"YOU COULDN'T SIT BESIDE ME TO-DAY?

"That's nothing at all to do with it. But it's so like you. I can't speak but you fly off to something else. Ha! and when the health of the young couple was drunk, what a speech you made then! It was delicious! How you made everybody cry as if their hearts were breaking; and I recollect it as if it was yesterday, how the tears ran down dear father's nose, and how dear mother nearly went into a fit! Dear souls! They little thought, with all your fine talk, how you'd use me.

"HOW HAVE YOU USED ME?

"Oh, Mr. Caudle, how can you ask that question? It's well for you I can't see you blush. HOW have you used me?

"Well, that the same tongue could make a speech like that, and then talk as it did to-day!

"HOW DID YOU TALK?

"Why, shamefully! What did you say about your wedded happiness?

Why, nothing. What did you say about your wife? Worse than nothing: just as if she were a bargain you were sorry for, but were obliged to make the best of. What do you say?

"AND BAD'S THE BEST?

"If you say that again, Caudle, I'll rise from my bed.

"YOU DIDN'T SAY IT?

"What, then, did you say? Something very like it, I know. Yes, a pretty speech of thanks for a husband! And everybody could see that you didn't care a pin for me; and that's why you had 'em here: that's why you invited 'em, to insult me to their faces. What?

"I MADE YOU INVITE 'EM?