I had to get out of the house sideways, by a step known in military tactics as "right close," wedging myself past piles of chairs dressed in white pinafores trimmed with red braid. I did not think the house could have held so much furniture; it looked like an auctioneer's store-room. On returning to dinner I was told there was not much, as there had been little time to cook. The gipsy table was again in requisition; but as it was too small to hold the various items, a couple of chairs were used as sideboards. When we were at dessert the girl entered and said, "Gif ye please, the wumman says she aye gets a little speerits." "What woman says that?" I asked. "It's the widow, dear, who is washing the floors," my wife explained. It seems strange that it is always widows who do that sort of work, and strange that they and ministers always call a glass of whisky "a little spirits." I suppose it does not sound so bad, though it sounds ungrammatical. One would think it should be "a little spirit," though perhaps that is ambiguous; but those who call soup or porridge "them" might as well say "a few spirits," though perhaps that expression is misleading too, and might turn the thoughts to those who entered the herd of swine. After dinner I was shown a book of patterns for wall-paper. "This is what I was thinking of for the drawing-room," said my wife, showing me one with an elaborate design; "or this," a much quieter pattern. I said I preferred the quiet one, but was told the other was more expensive, and the landlord was to pay for it, which seemed unanswerable logic from a woman's point of view. As we could not come to an agreement about it, we voted; but as the votes were equal--one on each side--my wife threw in her casting vote in favour of the expensive pattern. I can't help feeling that I am worse than useless in the house at present. I am positively in the way,--something to be tolerated, which is rather humiliating for one who should be the head of the house; and, what makes matters worse, my wife and the girl are extra friendly, and talk over their plans, completely ignoring me, unless it is to ask me to balance myself on the chimney-piece and hand down a large picture. What a fine time of it landlords would have if men were masters of their own houses! I used to do all that was required for the house at my own expense when I was a bachelor, though I don't remember doing anything.