_Nutts._ When you die, my love, what a deal of prudence you’ll take out of the world with you! _Mrs Nutts._ More than enough, Mr Nutts, to keep twenty men comfortable in it. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XIII. _Mrs Nutts._ I don’t wonder we’re poor, Mr Nutts; sitting there reading the news when you should be minding your bus’ness and your family. _Nutts._ Bless the woman! _Mrs Nutts._ Yes; bless the man!--but that does no good, one way or the other. _Nutts._ Can’t I have a bit of quiet news to myself afore the customers come in? _Mrs Nutts._ Not with your razors in the state they are. ’Twould be another thing if you was stropped as you ought to be. And I must tell you this---- _Nutts._ And I must tell you, Mrs Nutts, that I won’t have you here in the shop. ’Tisn’t your place. _Mrs Nutts._ Don’t you think it? All the years I’ve been married to you, I’ve been kept in the background--and you know it, Nutts. Very well, as I said afore, Tommy’s weaned, and now I shall come for’ard and enjoy myself. Women, as I said to Mrs Biggleswade over the way--women have been kept too long under, a good deal too long. But it is my intention now, Nutts--and I give you fair warnin’--to jine the movement. _Nutts._ I wish you’d lead it and get out of this. (_Mrs Nutts determinedly drops in a chair._) Well, you are the most aggravating thing as ever wore petticoats; you are----(_=Slowgoe=, =Peabody=, =Nosebag=, =&c.=, drop in_.) Mrs Nutts, my darling, where’s the hot water? _Mrs Nutts._ On the fire, and minding its business. Biling, as it ought to do, Mr Nutts. _Slowgoe._ I’m first, Nutts; but I’m in no hurry. I haven’t heard a bit of news this week: feel quite starving. (_Takes paper--sits._) Well, I’ve often thought what Rob’son Crusoe did without a newspaper. To me, a paper’s meat and drink, and a blanket to sleep in. Ha! so I see the Duke of Borducks---- _Peabody._ Beg your pardon--Bordeaux. _Slowgoe._ I know; but it’s Borducks in English. He’s got a wife at last. The Duke of Modena’s sister--aged thirty--with four millions of money! _Mrs Nutts._ Poor thing! I hope she’s settled every penny on it on herself, else a nice life she’ll have of it. _Nutts._ Four millions of money, and got safe to thirty with it! ’Twouldn’t have happened had she been in England! She’d had a swarm o’ Irish barristers stopping her on the king’s highway, every one with his heart and weddin’-ring. Four millions! Why, sweethearts would have swarmed round her like flies round a sugar-cask. _Mrs Nutts._ A very pretty comparison, Mr Nutts, for a husband and a father. _Nosebag._ Well, I don’t know; but to think of a woman with sich a mountain o’ gold--it seems unnat’ral. _Nutts._ Quite awful to think of! Besides, quite impossible, too, that any man could love her. _Mrs Nutts._ And I should like to know why not?