"Your money?" said Mr. Hatchard. "To hear you talk anybody 'ud think
you'd got three hundred a year, instead o' thirty. Your money ought to
be spent in useful things, same as what mine is. Why should I spend my
money keeping you, while you waste yours on pink vases and having friends
in to tea?"
Mrs. Hatchard's still comely face took on a deeper tinge.
"Keeping me?" she said, sharply. "You'd better stop before you say
anything you might be sorry for, Alfred."
"I should have to talk a long time before I said that," retorted the
other.
"I'm not so sure," said his wife. "I'm beginning to be tired of it."
"I've reasoned with you," continued Mr. Hatchard, "I've argued with you,
and I've pointed out the error of your ways to you, and it's all no
good."
"Oh, be quiet, and don't talk nonsense," said his wife.
"Talking," continued Mr. Hatchard, "as I said before, is no good. Deeds,
not words, is what is wanted."
He rose suddenly from his chair and, taking one of the vases from the
mantelpiece, dashed it to pieces on the fender. Example is contagious,
and two seconds later he was in his chair again, softly feeling a rapidly
growing bump on his head, and gazing goggle-eyed at his wife.
[Illustration: Taking one of the vases from the mantelpiece, he dashed it
to pieces on the fender.
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