FullReads

He had been confined to the house since morning, and had tried in vain to find some means of passing his time pleasantly.

The colour flew instantly to his wife’s face. “Perhaps, if you had a better appetite, you would see no fault in the cooking,” she said rather tartly.

“Perhaps not,” he replied. “A good appetite helps bad cooking wonderfully.”

There was nothing in this to soothe his wife’s temper. She retorted instantly–

“And honest employment alone will give a good appetite. I wonder how you could expect to relish your food after lounging about doing nothing all the morning! I’ll be bound that if you had been in your shop ironing hats or waiting on your customers since breakfast-time, there would have been no complaint about the dinner.”

Mr. Parker was taken all aback. This was speaking out plainly “with a vengeance.” Since his retirement from business, his self-estimation had arisen very high, compared with what it had previously been; he was, of course, more easily offended. To leave the dinner-table was the first impulse of offended dignity.

So broad a rupture as this had not occurred between the husband and wife since the day of their marriage–not that causes equally potent had not existed, for Mrs. Parker, when any thing excited her, was not over-choice of her words, and had frequently said more cutting things; but then her husband was not so easily disturbed–he had not so high an opinion of himself.

It was still raining heavily, but rain could no longer keep the latter at home. He went forth and walked aimlessly the streets for an hour, thinking bitter things against his wife all the while. But this was very unhappy work, and he was glad to seek relief from it by calling in upon a brother craftsman, whose shop happened to be in his way. The hatter was singing at his work as he had used to sing–he never sang at his work now.

“This is a very dull day,” was the natural remark of Mr. Parker, after first salutations were over.

“Why, yes, it is a little dull,” replied the tradesman, speaking in a tone that said, “But it didn’t occur to me before.”

“How is business now?” asked Mr. Parker.

“Very brisk; I am so busy that, rain or shine, it never seems dull to me.”

“You haven’t as many customers in.”

“No; but then I get a little ahead in my work, and that is something gained. Rain or shine, friend Parker, it’s all the same to me.”

“That is, certainly, a very comfortable state of mind to be in. I find a rainy day hard to get through.”

“I don’t think I would, if I were in your place,” said the old acquaintance. “If I could do no better, I would lie down and sleep away the time.”

“And remain awake half the night in return for it. No; that won’t do. To lie half-asleep and half-awake for three or four hours makes one feel miserable.”

The hatter thought this a very strange admission. He did not believe that, if he could afford to live without work, he would find even rainy days hang heavy upon his hands.

“Why don’t you read?”

“I do read all the newspapers–that is, two or three that I take,” replied Parker; “but there is not enough in them for a whole day.”

“There are plenty of books.”

“Books! I never read books; I can’t get interested in them. They are too long; it would take me a week to get through even a moderate-sized book. I would rather go back to the shop again. I understand making a hat, but as to books, I never did fancy them much.”

Parker lounged for a couple of hours in the shop of his friend, and then turned his face homeward, feeling very uncomfortable.

The dark day was sinking into darker night when he entered his house. There was no light in the passage nor any in the parlour. As he groped his way in, he struck against a chair that was out of place, and hurt himself. The momentary pain caused the fretfulness he felt, on finding all dark within, to rise into anger. He went back to the kitchen, grumbling sadly, and there gave the cook a sound rating for not having lit the lamps earlier. Mrs. Parker heard all, but said nothing. The cook brought a lamp into the parlour and placed it upon the table with an indignant air; she then flirted off up-stairs, and complained to Mrs. Parker that she had never been treated so badly in her life by any person, and notified her that she should leave the moment her week was up; that, anyhow, she had nothing to do with the lamps–lighting them was the chambermaid’s work.