dedicated to
middle-class house-mistresses, to explain how I'd misjudged 'em, and say
I'm sorry."

"Now that, in a manner of speaking, you have become one of them
yourself."

"I don't know what you mean by `a manner of speaking.' I _have_, wuss
luck! so now I know. I always laughed before, and felt superior and
forbearing, and wondered why he married her, and felt so sorry for him
that he had. One of the many aggravating things about a man is that he
looks so much nicer middle-aged. He is scraggy when he is young, but he
fills out, and grows broad and dignified, and the little touch of grey
in his hair has quite a _poudree_ effect. But his wife does not
improve. Take 'em fat, or take 'em thin, there's no getting away from
it, they look worse every year. It needs a lot of grace, Martin, for a
woman, to watch herself growing steadily into a fright, and to keep on
smiling!"

"Every woman, my vain one, is not so much occupied with her appearance
as you are. When she gets middle-aged, she doesn't care."

"Then she ought to, or her last estate will be worse than the first.
Her husband and children will rise up and rend her. Her boys will blush
for her when she goes to their public school; and her girls will have
engagements when she wants to go out, and her husband will think
thoughts, and look back and wonder `_Why_'--"

"Not necessarily. It doesn't follow. I was at a musical At Home one
evening last year, when a professional sang, `Believe me if all those
endearing young charms'--You know how it goes on!--`were to fade by
to-morrow, etc., thou wouldst still be beloved, as this moment thou art,
and around the dear ruins, each wish of my heart, would entwine itself
faithfully still.' The hostess seized that moment to sail out of the
room. She was a vast woman. Parts of her were engulfed by the doorway
long before her head vanished from sight. She had numerous chins, but,
imbedded in flesh, one could still trace a likeness to an ethereally
fair daughter. The host took me by the arm, and pointed covertly to the
door. `_My dear Ruins_!' he whispered beneath his breath. `_My dear
Ruins_!' But there was love in his eyes, as well as fun. He loved his
Ruins!"

"Bless him!" cried Grizel warmly. "May his tribe increase! But most
men don't. So she must do her best. If she's fat, she diets, and it's
harder for a middle-class housewife to diet than for any creature on the
face of the earth. Because why?