You have not given me the wifely devotion I expected.
Only last week, when I came home feeling miserable, you sat at the
piano playing extracts from some beastly revue, when a true wife would
have been singing "Parted" or even "Roses of Picardy." Again, you
invariably put our child in front of me in all things, such as the
last piece of cake or having an egg for tea. I am not jealous of the
boy, mind you, but I hate favouritism, and I won't play second fiddle
to Christopher or anyone else.

"'In fact, my dear Cecilia (I use the phrase in its formal sense
only), not being satisfied that you do all that was promised in the
advertisement, I have decided to return you without further liability
and ask for a refund of the cost of carriage. That will be all, thank
you. You may go.'"

There was a few moments' ominous quiet, and then Cecilia went over the
top with a roar of artillery and the rattle of machine guns. John put
up a defensive barrage. Cecilia raked him with bombs and Lewis guns.
He replied with heavy stuff. The air grew thicker and thicker.

"Shush!" I shouted through the din of battle. "Man and wife to wrangle
like this! Think of your good name. Think of the servants. Think of
the child."

Cecilia caught the last phrase and the noise subsided.

"Yes," she said, breathless but calm, "there's the hitch in your
plans, Master John--the child. If I go I take Christopher with me."

"That you don't. Christopher belongs to me. He is part of my
estate--in law. You _can't_ take him."

"Can't I?" said Cecilia. "Am I his mother or am I not?"

"Who pays his school-fees?" said John. "What's his name? Whose house
does he live in?"

Cecilia was gathering herself for another offensive when the door
opened and Christopher came in.

We looked at him and he paused in embarrassment.

"What are you all looking at me for?" he asked, smiling uneasily; "I
haven't done anything."

"He belongs to _me_," said Cecilia suddenly.

"He belongs to _me_," said John with decision.

Christopher knows his parents fairly well. "Whatever are you doing?"
he asked with a chuckle.

"Come here," said John.

Christopher advanced and stood between his mother and his father.

"I don't know what I'm inspected to do," he said.

"Christopher," said John, "to whom do you belong--to your mother or to
me? Think well, my child."

Christopher wrinkled his nose obediently and thought for a moment.

"Why," he said, his face clearing, "we all b