Now comes marriage,--and it turns out that Enthusius is very particular as to his coffee, that he is excessively disturbed if his meals are at all irregular, and that he cannot be comfortable with any table arrangements which do not resemble those of his notable mother, lately deceased in the odor of sanctity; he also wants his house in perfect order at all hours. Still he does not propose to provide a trained housekeeper; it is all to be effected by means of certain raw Irish girls, under the superintendence of this angel who was to tread on roses, sleep on clouds, and never know an earthly care. Neither has Enthusius ever considered it a part of a husband’s duty to bear personal inconveniences in silence. He would freely shed his blood for Hermione,--nay, has often frantically proposed the same in the hours of courtship, when of course nobody wanted it done, and it could answer no manner of use; but now to the idyllic dialogues of that period succeed such as these:-- “My dear, this tea is smoked: can’t you get Jane into the way of making it better?” “My dear, I have tried; but she will not do as I tell her.” “Well, all I know is, _other_ people can have good tea, and I should think we might.” And again at dinner:-- “My dear, this mutton is overdone again; it is _always_ overdone.” “Not always, dear, because you recollect on Monday you said it was just right.” “Well, _almost_ always.” “Well, my dear, the reason to-day was, I had company in the parlor, and could not go out to caution Bridget, as I generally do. It’s very difficult to get things done with such a girl.” “My mother’s things were always well done, no matter what her girl was.” Again: “My dear, you must speak to the servants about wasting the coal. I never saw such a consumption of fuel in a family of our size”; or, “My dear, how can you let Maggie tear the morning paper?” or, “My dear, I shall actually have to give up coming to dinner, if my dinners cannot be regular”; or, “My dear, I wish you would look at the way my shirts are ironed,--it is perfectly scandalous”; or, “My dear, you must not let Johnnie finger the mirror in the parlor”; or, “My dear, you must stop the children from playing in the garret”, or, “My dear, you must see that Maggie doesn’t leave the mat out on the railing when she sweeps the front hall”; and so on, up stairs and down stairs, in the lady’s chamber, in attic, garret, and cellar, “my dear” is to see that nothing goes wrong, and she is found fault with when anything does.