after as
husbands for several reasons--firstly, they were big men, and big men
are always good to look upon; secondly, their social standing was very
high and their respectability undoubted; thirdly, a policeman's pay
was such as would bring comfort to any household which was not
needlessly and criminally extravagant; and this was often supplemented
in a variety of ways which rumor only hinted at: there was also the
safe prospect of a pension and the possibility of a sergeantship,
where the emoluments were very great: and fourthly, a policeman, being
subjected for many years to a rigorous discipline, would likely make a
nice and obedient husband. Personally Mrs. Makebelieve did not admire
policemen--they thought too much of themselves, and their continual
pursuit of and intercourse with criminals tended to deteriorate their
moral tone; also, being much admired by a certain type of woman, their
morals were subjected to so continuous an assault that the wife of
such a one would be worn to a shadow in striving to preserve her
husband from designing and persistent females.

Mary Makebelieve said she thought it would be nice to have other women
dying for love of one's husband, but her mother opposed this with the
reflection that such people did not die for love at all, they were
merely anxious to gratify a foolish and excessive pride or to inflict
pain on respectable married women. On the whole, a policeman was not
an ideal person to marry. The hours at which he came home were liable
to constant and vexatious changes, so that there was a continual
feeling of insecurity, which was bad for housekeeping; and if one had
not stability in one's home all discipline and all real home life was
at an end. There was this to be said for them--that they all loved
little children. But, all things considered, a clerk made a better
husband: his hours were regular and, knowing where he was at any
moment, one's mind was at ease.

Mary Makebelieve was burning to tell some one of her adventure during
the day, but although she had never before kept a secret from her
mother she was unable to tell her this one. Something--perhaps the
mere difference of age, and also a kind of shyness--kept her silent.
She wished she knew a nice girl of her own age, or even a little
younger, to whose enraptured ear she might have confided her story.
They would have hugged each other during the recital, and she would
have been able to enlarge upon a hundred trivia