Of course it was the old story over and over again. He wasn’t going to bring himself to the workhouse, he wasn’t, for any of my fine fal-lal notions. As for his having a great, fat, lazy footman, sauntering about his house, and eating the very bed from under him, he wouldn’t think of it for a moment; for the long and short of it was, _he couldn’t afford it_, especially with the few suits that he had then down on his ‘Chancery Cause Book;’ and the world seemed to have come to such a pass now-a-days, that relations and partners _would_ settle all their disputes amicably. So I merely told him, that, of course, I couldn’t say whether his trumpery Chancery Cause-Book would allow him to afford me a rubbishing footman or not; but this I _could_ and I _would_ say, that unless something was done, he’d have to afford, somehow or other, to pay for my funeral expenses before long--though, perhaps, I added, with my usual biting sarcasm, _that_ would be far more agreeable to him. Then, bursting into tears, I went on saying, “If some change does not take place, I can only tell you, sir, I shall fall a martyr to your meanness and this great big house; for I feel myself sinking every day under the weight of it; and Doctor J--pp himself has, over and over again, said, when he has called and found me here nearly fainting with fatigue, ‘Why, my dear madam, will we over-exert ourselves in this way. Really, we are too attentive and good a housewife. We are not fit for it--positively, we are not. Now, we ought to be in bed in our present state--indeed, we ought--instead of being up here, ruining our naturally fine constitution in this way. Mr. Sk--n--st--n, I’m sure, cannot be aware of what we are doing, or he would never allow us, if he had one spark of feeling, to be killing ourselves by inches in this way. Really, my dear, good, lady, it comes to this--either we must get extra help, and eat little and good, and often, or depend upon it we shall be in our graves before many months are over our heads. Would you like us to speak to our good worthy husband on the subject, for I am sure he would gladly make any sacrifice, rather than let us endanger our precious life thus?” And what reply did I make to my medical attendant? I asked Edward, with an indignant look--why, I merely said, “No, Dr. J--pp, my own dear Edward will tell you that he cannot afford it; and if so, perhaps my funeral expenses will fall less heavily upon him than having an extra servant in the house.” After I had said this, I sank in a chair, and burying my face in a sweet pretty cambric handkerchief, with a very rich imitation Valenciennes border, I waited, sobbing as if my heart would break, to see whether he would let me have my footman or not; and expecting, of course, that every minute he would be coming up and kissing me, and telling me that he would gladly do anything I liked to make his own sweet angel of a Carry happy and comfortable.