'A fool indeed. A
man at your time of life, Varden, should know better now.'
'Why, what a ridiculous woman you are, Martha,' said the locksmith,
turning round with a smile.
'Certainly,' replied Mrs V. with great demureness. 'Of course I am. I
know that, Varden. Thank you.'
'I mean--' began the locksmith.
'Yes,' said his wife, 'I know what you mean. You speak quite plain
enough to be understood, Varden. It's very kind of you to adapt yourself
to my capacity, I am sure.'
'Tut, tut, Martha,' rejoined the locksmith; 'don't take offence at
nothing. I mean, how strange it is of you to run down volunteering, when
it's done to defend you and all the other women, and our own fireside
and everybody else's, in case of need.'
'It's unchristian,' cried Mrs Varden, shaking her head.
'Unchristian!' said the locksmith. 'Why, what the devil--'
Mrs Varden looked at the ceiling, as in expectation that the consequence
of this profanity would be the immediate descent of the four-post
bedstead on the second floor, together with the best sitting-room on the
first; but no visible judgment occurring, she heaved a deep sigh, and
begged her husband, in a tone of resignation, to go on, and by all means
to blaspheme as much as possible, because he knew she liked it.
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