_Mrs Nutts._ And just like a good many of ’em. There’s Nutts there, for all his fine perlitical principles, I’ve often told him--and Lord Bacon makes it true--that he wouldn’t mind giving his wife and children to anybody, so _he_ wasn’t troubled with ’em. Only he’s not likely to give them to _fortune_, as the lord tells of--not he, indeed; more like to force his poor wife to another Union; well, it can’t be worse than the first. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XIV. _=Slowgoe=, =Tickle=, =Peabody=, and others waiting. =Mrs Nutts= comes from back room._ _Tickle._ Why, Mrs Nutts, where’s the master? Not gone to Brighton and left you to shave? _Mrs Nutts._ Ha, Mr Tickle! I only wish I could shave. I’ve often said it ’ud be a nice light business for us poor women. I only wish I could shave! Anything to get money one’s self; anything rather than be going to a man’s pocket for every farden. Why--I’ve often asked it--_why_ shouldn’t women shave? _Slowgoe._ Nonsense! Taking men by the nose! Men--the rulers of the world! Pooh! what revolution, I should like to know, next? _Mrs Nutts._ Rulers of the world! Ha, the world never will run right, Mr Slowgoe, till women put their hands a little more to it. And as for taking you rulers by the noses, I don’t think any of you need turn ’em up for that. I’m sure you men monopolise everything. Very little you leave us to do; and what we could do, you won’t let us; and for this reason, in course, to keep us your slaves. I only wish I was the Queen of England! Wouldn’t I set the example of shaving, that’s all? _Tickle._ Why, how, Mrs Nutts? how? _Mrs Nutts._ How? Why, as I say, I’d bring in fashion. I’d make a Maid of Honour, or something of that sort, shave my own lawful husband; and I’d see it done, too, every morning; shave him just to set the thing a-going. That would give employment to lots of poor things that has nothing now but the needle. _=Nutts= comes in._ _Nosebag._ Why, Nutts, you’ve just come in time. In another minute, and your wife would ha’ taken the business out of your hands. _Nutts._ Yes, I know; jest the persumption of women; think they can do anything their husbands do. If I was a Horse Guardsman, she’d think she’d look quite as well as me in boots, helmet, and regimentals. It’s like all wives; but it’s our own fault--I’ve often said it. We’re too free with ’em: it’s the famil’arity breeds contempt. Women shave, indeed! _Mrs Nutts._ And why not? A very light, genteel livelihood. Better than making shirts, I’m sure; for a woman with a razor in her hand wouldn’t be the unpertected thing she is now. _Nutts._ Now, Mrs Nutts, suppose you go and look to the apple-sarce, and, for a little while, be quiet with your own. Burns the baker has promised to do the pig like a pictur; that’s why I took it myself; brown and crisp, and----