en married two or three years he was no more like the landlord
o' that public-'ouse than I'm like a lord. Not so much. She used to get
into such terrible tempers there was no doing anything with 'er, and for
the sake o' peace and quietness he gave way to 'er till 'e got into the
habit of it and couldn't break 'imself of it.

They 'adn't been married long afore she 'ad her cousin, Charlie Burge,
come in as barman, and a month or two arter that 'is brother Bob, who 'ad
been spending a lot o' time looking for work instead o' doing it, came
too. They was so comfortable there that their father--a 'ouse-painter by
trade--came round to see whether he couldn't paint the Blue Lion up a bit
and make 'em look smart, so that they'd get more trade. He was one o'
these 'ere fust-class 'ousepainters that can go to sleep on a ladder
holding a brush in one hand and a pot o' paint in the other, and by the
time he 'ad finished painting the 'ouse it was ready to be done all over
agin.

I dare say that George Dixon--that was 'is name--wouldn't ha' minded so
much if 'is wife 'ad only been civil, but instead o' that she used to
make fun of 'im and order 'im about, and by-and-by the others began to
try the same thing. As I said afore, Dixon was a very quiet man, and if
there was ever anybody to be put outside Charlie or Bob used to do it.
They tried to put me outside once, the two of 'em, but they on'y did it
at last by telling me that somebody 'ad gone off and left a pot o' beer
standing on the pavement. They was both of 'em fairly strong young chaps
with a lot of bounce in 'em, and she used to say to her 'usband wot fine
young fellers they was, and wot a pity it was he wasn't like 'em.

Talk like this used to upset George Dixon awful. Having been brought up
careful by 'is mother, and keeping a very quiet, respectable 'ouse--I
used it myself--he cert'nly was soft, and I remember 'im telling me once
that he didn't believe in fighting, and that instead of hitting people
you ought to try and persuade them. He was uncommon fond of 'is wife,
but at last one day, arter she 'ad made a laughing-stock of 'im in the
bar, he up and spoke sharp to her.

"Wot?" ses Mrs. Dixon, 'ardly able to believe her ears.

"Remember who you're speaking to; that's wot I said," ses Dixon.

"'Ow dare you talk to me like that?" screams 'is wife, turning red with
rage. "Wot d'ye mean by it?"

"Because you seem to forget who is master 'ere," ses Dixon, in a