ice of Mrs
Varden, which, after a pause of some five minutes, awoke him with a
start.

'If I am ever,' said Mrs V.--not scolding, but in a sort of monotonous
remonstrance--'in spirits, if I am ever cheerful, if I am ever more than
usually disposed to be talkative and comfortable, this is the way I am
treated.'

'Such spirits as you was in too, mim, but half an hour ago!' cried
Miggs. 'I never see such company!'

'Because,' said Mrs Varden, 'because I never interfere or interrupt;
because I never question where anybody comes or goes; because my whole
mind and soul is bent on saving where I can save, and labouring in this
house;--therefore, they try me as they do.'

'Martha,' urged the locksmith, endeavouring to look as wakeful as
possible, 'what is it you complain of? I really came home with every
wish and desire to be happy. I did, indeed.'

'What do I complain of!' retorted his wife. 'Is it a chilling thing to
have one's husband sulking and falling asleep directly he comes home--to
have him freezing all one's warm-heartedness, and throwing cold water
over the fireside? Is it natural, when I know he went out upon a matter
in which I am as much interested as anybody can be, that I should wish
to know all that has happened, or that he should tell me without my
begging and praying him to do it? Is that natural, or is it not?'

'I am very sorry, Martha,' said the good-natured locksmith. 'I was
really afraid you were not disposed to talk pleasantly; I'll tell you
everything; I shall only be too glad, my dear.'

'No, Varden,' returned his wife, rising with dignity. 'I dare say--thank
you! I'm not a child to be corrected one minute and petted the next--I'm
a little too old for that, Varden. Miggs, carry the light.--YOU can be
cheerful, Miggs, at least.'

Miggs, who, to this moment, had been in the very depths of compassionate
despondency, passed instantly into the liveliest state conceivable,
and tossing her head as she glanced towards the locksmith, bore off her
mistress and the light together.

'Now, who would think,' thought Varden, shrugging his shoulders and
drawing his chair nearer to the fire, 'that that woman could ever be
pleasant and agreeable? And yet she can be. Well, well, all of us have
our faults. I'll not be hard upon hers. We have been man and wife too
long for that.'

He dozed again--not the less pleasantly, perhaps, for his hearty temper.
While his eyes were closed, the door leading to the upper