“Poor Aunt Prue!” said Hetty, looking after her. “What a sad misnomer was her name when she undertook the care and support of--” “Hush, hush, child!” interrupted her mother. “Well, well, I must try to keep my opinions to myself,” pursued the girl, with a serio-comic expression, “but I can’t help feeling sorry for her, or glad for ourselves, that we’ll get no more Sharp prickles from the Thorne to-day. He’s bound to spend the rest of it in a fit o’ the pouts, and will not darken these doors till noon of to-morrow.” Mrs. Sharp found her Thorne lying on a couch in their chamber, literally pouting like the great baby that he was. “My dear,” she said soothingly, “you mustn’t mind that saucy girl; she isn’t worth it, and--” “No, I suppose not; but if you cared a penny for me you’d send her away at once, or rather would have done so long ago.” “But, unfortunately, Thorne, we can’t do without her, and, still more unfortunately, she is perfectly aware of the fact, and doesn’t scruple to take every advantage of it.” “‘Where there’s a will there’s a way,’ Mrs. Sharp, and if you were the right sort of wife you’d never sit by and see your husband insulted at his own table as I have been to-day.” “His own table indeed!” thought she; “it’s more Hetty’s than his; more mine than hers. But--ah, well, I must even make the best of a bad bargain.” And going into an adjoining room, she presently returned laden with delicacies--fine confections and tropical fruits--which she pressed upon him, saying, “You made such a poor dinner; hardly eat enough to keep a bird alive; do try to eke it out with these. These grapes are splendid, so are the oranges and bananas, and I never saw finer candies.” “I don’t want them,” he said shortly; “if things are to be locked up and kept from my knowledge till it suits you to bring them out, I’ll not touch them.” At this she was justly indignant, and, losing all patience, informed him that “since he was determined to ‘bite off his nose to spite his face’ he was entirely welcome to do so.” “To think that I should ever have married a woman who can use such vulgarisms as that!” said he, turning his back on her. “Better be vulgar than wicked!” she retorted, “and the way you’re behaving is downright wicked--such temper and ingratitude! If you were a child I should say you wanted a good spanking, and I rather think so as it is. If I were you I’d really try to put away childish things.” “You, who can be guilty of such extravagance as this, do well to reprove me, your liege lord,” he remarked with bitter sarcasm. “Cast the beam from your own eye, and you may perhaps see clearly to pull the mote out of mine.” “My liege lord indeed!” she repeated scornfully; “rather my-- But I will not bandy words with you, and, lest I should be too strongly tempted to do so, shall leave you to pout it out alone.”