"It is so nice," she said, "to think one's own husband will put
together the box you are to lie in, of his own make!" Had they been even
a doubtfully united pair, the cook's anticipation of a comfortable
coffin, the work of the best carpenter in England, would have kept them
together; and that which fine cookery does for the cementing of couples
needs not to be recounted to those who have read a chapter or two of the
natural history of the male sex.
"Crickledon, my dear soul, your husband is labouring with a bit of fun,"
Herbert said to her.
"He would n't laugh loud at Punch, for fear of an action," she replied.
"He never laughs out till he gets to bed, and has locked the door; and
when he does he says 'Hush!' to me. Tinman is n't bailiff again just yet,
and where he has his bailiff's best Court suit from, you may ask. He
exercises in it off and on all the week, at night, and sometimes in the
middle of the day."
Herbert rallied her for her gossip's credulity.
"It's truth," she declared. "I have it from the maid of the house, little
Jane, whom he pays four pound a year for all the work of the house: a
clever little thing with her hands and her head she is; and can read and
write beautiful; and she's a mind to leave 'em if they don't advance her.
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