"And Miss Prettyman--I won't hold my tongue. I WILL talk of Miss Prettyman: who's she, indeed, that I shouldn't talk of her? I suppose she thinks she sings? What do you say? "SHE SINGS LIKE A MERMAID? "Yes, very--very like a mermaid; for she never sings but she exposes herself. She might, I think, have chosen another song. 'I LOVE SOMEBODY,' indeed; as if I didn't know who was meant by that 'somebody'; and all the room knew it, of course; and that was what it was done for, nothing else. "However, Mr. Caudle, as my mind's made up, I shall say no more about the matter to-night, but try to go to sleep." "And to my astonishment and gratitude," writes Caudle, "she kept her word." LECTURE XXII--CAUDLE COMES HOME IN THE EVENING, AS MRS. CAUDLE HAS "JUST STEPPED OUT, SHOPPING." ON HER RETURN, AT TEN, CAUDLE REMONSTRATES "Mr. Caudle, you ought to have had a slave--yes, a black slave, and not a wife. I'm sure, I'd better been born a negro at once--much better. "WHAT'S THE MATTER NOW? "Well, I like that. Upon my life, Mr. Caudle, that's very cool. I can't leave the house just to buy a yard of riband, but you storm enough to carry the roof off. "YOU DIDN'T STORM? YOU ONLY SPOKE? "Spoke, indeed! No, sir: I've not such superfine feelings; and I don't cry out before I'm hurt. But you ought to have married a woman of stone, for you feel for nobody: that is, for nobody in your own house. I only wish you'd show some of your humanity at home, if ever so little--that's all. "What do you say? "WHERE'S MY FEELINGS, TO GO SHOPPING AT NIGHT? "When would you have me go? In the broiling sun, making my face like a gipsy's? I don't see anything to laugh at, Mr. Caudle; but you think of anybody's face before your wife's. Oh, that's plain enough; and all the world can see it. I dare say, now, if it was Miss Prettyman's face--now, now, Mr. Caudle! What are you throwing yourself about for? I suppose Miss Prettyman isn't so wonderful a person that she isn't to be named? I suppose she's flesh and blood. What? "YOU DON'T KNOW? "Ha! I don't know that. "What, Mr. Caudle? "YOU'LL HAVE A SEPARATE ROOM--YOU'LL NOT BE TORMENTED IN THIS MANNER? "No, you won't, sir--not while I'm alive. A separate room! And you call yourself a religious man, Mr. Caudle. I'd advise you to take down the Prayer Book, and read over the Marriage Service. A separate room, indeed! Caudle, you're getting quite a heathen. A separate room! Well, the servants would talk then! But no: no man--not the best that ever trod, Caudle--should ever make me look so contemptible. "I SHA'N'T go to sleep; and you ought to know me better than to ask me to hold my tongue. Because you come home when I've just stepped out to do a little shopping, you're worse than a fury. I should like to know how many hours I sit up for you? What do you say? "NOBODY WANTS ME TO SIT UP?