“The children, too! Dear things! They 'll be sopping wet: for they shan't stop at home----they shan't lose their learning; it's all their father will leave 'em, I'm sure. But they _shall_ go to school. Don't tell me I said they shouldn't: you are so aggravating, Caudle; you'd spoil the temper of an angel. They _shall_ go to school; mark that. And if they get their deaths of cold, it's not my fault--_I_ didn't lend the umbrella.” “Here,” says Caudle in his MS, “I fell asleep; and dreamt that the sky was turned into green calico, with whalebone ribs; that, in fact, the whole world revolved under a tremendous umbrella!” LECTURE VII. MR. CAUDLE HAS VENTURED A REMONSTRANCE ON HIS DAY'S DINNER: COLD MUTTON, AND NO PUDDING. MRS. CAUDLE DEFENDS THE COLD SHOULDER [Illustration: 031] I wonder what it will be next! There's nothing proper, now--nothing at all. Better get somebody else to keep the house I think. I can't do it now, it seems; I'm only in the way here: I'd better take the children, and go. “What am I grumbling about now? It's very well for you to ask that! I'm sure I'd better be out of the world than--there now, Mr. Caudle; there you are again! I _shall_ speak, sir. It isn't often I open my mouth, heaven knows! But you like to hear nobody talk but yourself. You ought to have married a negro slave, and not any respectable woman. “You 're to go about the house looking like thunder all the day, and I'm not to say a word. Where do you think pudding's to come from every-day? You show a nice example to your children, you do; complaining, and turning your nose up at a sweet piece of cold mutton, because there's no pudding! You go a nice way to make 'em extravagant--teach 'em nice lessons to begin the world with. Do you know what puddings cost; or do you think they fly in at the window? “You hate cold mutton. The more shame for you, Mr. Caudle. I'm sure you've the stomach of a lord, you have. No, sir; I didn't choose to hash the mutton. It's very easy for you to say hash it; but _I_ know what a joint loses in hashing: it's a day's dinner the less, if it's a bit. Yes, I dare say; other people may have puddings with cold mutton. No doubt of it; and other people become bankrupts. But if ever you get into the Gazette, it shan't be _my_ fault--no; I'll do my duty as a wife to you, Mr. Caudle; you shall never have it to say that it was _my_ housekeeping that brought you to beggary. No; you may sulk at the cold meat--ha! I hope you 'll never live to want such a piece of cold mutton as we had to-day! And you may threaten to go to a tavern to dine; but with our present means, not a crumb of pudding do you get from me. You shall have nothing but the cold joint--nothing as I'm a Christian sinner.