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Indeed, it was the by-standers who had the worst of it on these occasions. To the worthy couple themselves the habit had become second nature, and in no way affected the friendly tenor of their domestic relations. They would interfere with each other’s conversation, contradicting assertions, and disputing conclusions for a whole evening; and then, when all the world and his wife thought that these ceaseless sparks of bickering must blaze up into a flaming quarrel as soon as they were alone, they would bowl amicably home in a cab, criticizing the friends who were commenting upon them, and as little agreed about the events of the evening as about the details of any other events whatever.

Yes. The by-standers certainly had the worst of it. Those who were near wished themselves anywhere else, especially when appealed to. Those who were at a distance did not mind so much. A domestic squabble at a certain distance is interesting, like an engagement viewed from a point beyond the range of guns. In such a position one may some day be placed oneself! Moreover, it gives a touch of excitement to a dull evening to be able to say sotto voce to one’s neighbor, “Do listen! The Skratdjs are at it again!” Their unmarried friends thought a terrible abyss of tyranny and aggravation must lie beneath it all, and blessed their stars that they were still single, and able to tell a tale their own way. The married ones had more idea of how it really was, and wished in the name of common sense and good taste that Skratdj and his wife would not make fools of themselves.

So it went on, however; and so, I suppose it goes on still, for not many bad habits are cured in middle age.

On certain questions of comparative speaking their views were never identical. Such as the temperature being hot or cold, things being light or dark, the apple-tarts being sweet or sour. So one day Mr. Skratdj came into the room, rubbing his hands, and planting himself at the fire with “Bitterly cold it is to-day, to be sure.”

“Why, my dear William,” said Mrs. Skratdj, “I’m sure you must have got a cold; I feel a fire quite oppressive myself.”

“You were wishing you’d a seal-skin jacket yesterday, when it wasn’t half as cold as it is to-day,” said Mr. Skratdj.

“My dear William! Why, the children were shivering the whole day, and the wind was in the north.”

“Due east, Mrs. Skratdj.”

“I know by the smoke,” said Mrs. Skratdj, softly but decidedly.

“I fancy I can tell an east wind when I feel it,” said Mr. Skratdj, jocosely, to the company.

“I told Jemima to look at the weathercock,” murmured Mrs. Skratdj.

“I don’t care a fig for Jemima,” said her husband.

On another occasion Mrs. Skratdj and a lady friend were conversing.

… “We met him at the Smiths’–a gentlemanlike agreeable man, about forty,” said Mrs. Skratdj, in reference to some matter interesting to both ladies.

“Not a day over thirty-five,” said Mr. Skratdj, from behind his newspaper.

“Why, my dear William, his hair’s grey,” said Mrs. Skratdj.

“Plenty of men are grey at thirty,” said Mr. Skratdj. “I knew a man who was grey at twenty-five.”

“Well, forty or thirty-five, it doesn’t much matter,” said Mrs. Skratdj, about to resume her narration.

“Five years matters a good deal to most people at thirty-five,” said Mr. Skratdj, as he walked towards the door. “They would make a remarkable difference to me, I know;” and with a jocular air Mr. Skratdj departed, and Mrs. Skratdj had the rest of the anecdote her own way.

THE LITTLE SKRATDJS.

The Spirit of Contradiction finds a place in most nurseries, though to a very varying degree in different ones. Children snap and snarl by nature, like young puppies; and most of us can remember taking part in some such spirited dialogues as the following:–

{“I will.”
{“You can’t.”

{“You shall.”
{“I won’t.”