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people call a sort of a comfortable appearance together,
you and your wife. We know better, you know, but—'
    'No, we don't know better,' interposed John. 'What are you talking
about?'
    'Well! We DON'T know better, then,' said Tackleton. 'We'll agree
that we don't. As you like; what does it matter? I was going to
say, as you have that sort of appearance, your company will produce
a favourable effect on Mrs. Tackleton that will be. And, though I
don't think your good lady's very friendly to me, in this matter,
still she can't help herself from falling into my views, for
there's a compactness and cosiness of appearance about her that
always tells, even in an indifferent case. You'll say you'll
come?'
    'We have arranged to keep our Wedding-Day (as far as that goes) at
home,' said John. 'We have made the promise to ourselves these six
months. We think, you see, that home—'
    'Bah! what's home?' cried Tackleton. 'Four walls and a ceiling!
(why don't you kill that Cricket?
I
would! I always do. I hate
their noise.) There are four walls and a ceiling at my house.
Come to me!'
    'You kill your Crickets, eh?' said John.
    'Scrunch 'em, sir,' returned the other, setting his heel heavily on
the floor. 'You'll say you'll come? it's as much your interest as
mine, you know, that the women should persuade each other that
they're quiet and contented, and couldn't be better off. I know
their way. Whatever one woman says, another woman is determined to
clinch, always. There's that spirit of emulation among 'em, sir,
that if your wife says to my wife, "I'm the happiest woman in the
world, and mine's the best husband in the world, and I dote on
him," my wife will say the same to yours, or more, and half believe
it.'
    'Do you mean to say she don't, then?' asked the Carrier.
    'Don't!' cried Tackleton, with a short, sharp laugh. 'Don't what?'
    The Carrier had some faint idea of adding, 'dote upon you.' But,
happening to meet the half-closed eye, as it twinkled upon him over
the turned-up collar of the cape, which was within an ace of poking
it out, he felt it such an unlikely part and parcel of anything to
be doted on, that he substituted, 'that she don't believe it?'
    'Ah you dog! You're joking,' said Tackleton.
    But the Carrier, though slow to understand the full drift of his
meaning, eyed him in such a serious manner, that he was obliged to
be a little more explanatory.
    'I have the humour,' said Tackleton: holding up the fingers of his
left hand, and tapping the forefinger, to imply 'there I am,
Tackleton to wit:' 'I have the humour, sir, to marry a young wife,
and a pretty wife:' here he rapped his little finger, to express
the Bride; not sparingly, but sharply; with a sense of power. 'I'm
able to gratify that humour and I do. It's my whim. But—now look
there!'
    He pointed to where Dot was sitting, thoughtfully, before the fire;
leaning her dimpled chin upon her hand, and watching the bright
blaze. The Carrier looked at her, and then at him, and then at
her, and then at him again.
    'She honours and obeys, no doubt, you know,' said Tackleton; 'and
that, as I am not a man of sentiment, is quite enough for ME. But
do you think there's anything more in it?'
    'I think,' observed the Carrier, 'that I should chuck any man out
of window, who said there wasn't.'
    'Exactly so,' returned the other with an unusual alacrity of
assent. 'To be sure! Doubtless you would. Of course. I'm
certain of it. Good night. Pleasant dreams!'
    The Carrier was puzzled, and made uncomfortable and uncertain, in
spite of himself. He couldn't help showing it, in his manner.
    'Good night, my dear friend!' said Tackleton, compassionately.
'I'm off. We're exactly alike, in reality, I see. You won't give
us to-morrow evening? Well! Next day you go out visiting, I know.
I'll meet you there, and bring my wife that is to be. It'll do her
good. You're agreeable? Thank'ee. What's that!'
    It was a loud cry from the Carrier's wife: a loud, sharp, sudden
cry, that made the room ring,