“In wot respeck?” Mr. Somp was tenacious. “She's a h'orator as yer'll soon find h'out if yer marry 'er.” The policeman gazed at the cabman sombrely. “That don't mike 'er no better; h'it mikes 'er wuss. H'I've found that h'out. It's my h'opinion that wimen should be seen and not 'eard.” “So yer've found it h'out, 'ave yer?” Into Mr. Grace's voice had crept a sudden warmth of fellow-feeling and friendliness. “Ter my regret,” sighed Grace's policeman, wagging a mournful head. “If I'd knowed before h'I got ter love 'er---- Ah, well! It don't mend matters ter talk abart it.” Mr. Grace heaved himself off the bench. “Shike 'ands, old pal; yer goin' ter suffer.” Mr. Somp gloomily accepted the proffered hand, looking at the barmaid. “H'I'm afraid I h'am.” “Then why not taik me?” asked the barmaid cheerily. “And why not? That's the question. My dear, you might mike me suffer wuss.” “And I mightn't 'ave you,” she said coyly. “Any'ow, Mr. Somp had no sympathy with the Salvation Army old top, try me next. Yours truly, Gertie, h'always ready ter oblige a friend.” It was the day after the honeymoon, which had consisted of a steamer-trip to Greenwich, that Mr. Somp confided to Mr. Grace, “Too much religion abart your gel.” At that hour Mr. Somp and Grace's father became friends. [Illustration: 0227] Grace's husband had no sympathy with the Salvation Army--he didn't feel the need of conversion; and Grace, for her part, had no patience with men who refused to sign the pledge. Mr. Somp took revenge for domestic wrongs in his official capacity, by moving his wife along when he found her beating her drum at street corners. Mrs. Somp punished him by keeping him awake at night while, to use his own words, she sneaked to God abart him. She even addressed God in the highways on this intensely private matter, when she saw her husband approaching. She followed St. Paul's advice by being urgent in season and out in her rebuking, long-suffering, teaching and exhorting. Her lofty sense of right and wrong depressed him; he grew slack, lost his standing in the force and gradually ceased to work. His self-confidence melted before her superior morality. So she went back to the Barringtons by the day to do charring and to give extra help. That was how Peter came to know all about her intimate matrimonial problems. He heard the other side from Mr. Grace and Mr. Somp, who now had a common grievance--they wanted to drink and Grace tried to prevent them. “Don't you never marry a good woman,” they both advised him; “good wimen is bad.” Grace, on the other hand, despite her frequent complaints, held that her husband was a very decent man, but bone-lazy. Having proved prayer useless, she could think of only one other remedy. “If I was ter die, father'd be sorry and my 'usband 'ad 'ave ter work; but I ain't got the 'eart ter do it.” To which Cookie would reply, “I'm sure yer 'aven't, dearie. It's them as should do the dyin'.”