had got up from her chair; but neither elevation was
great; in fact, the personal height was very small, and there was
something very kittenish and comic in her appearance, as she crossed the
bright little kitchen to the door at the flight of stairs, and passing
through, banged it behind her, and went up to her room.

"Very well," said Jem, as he sat staring at the door; "very well, marm.
So this is being married. My father used to say that if two people as
is married can't agree, they ought to divide the house between 'em, but
one ought to take the outside and t'other the in. That's what I'm
a-going to do, only, seeing what a bit of a doll of a thing you are, and
being above it, I'm going to take the outside myself. There's coffee
bags enough to make a man a good bed up in the ware'us, and it won't be
the first time I've shifted for myself, so I shall stop away till you
fetches me back. Do you hear?"

"Oh, yes, I can hear," replied Sally from the top of the stairs, Jem
having shouted his last speech.

"All right, then," said Jem: "so now we understands each other and can
go ahead."

Tightening up his lips, Jem rinsed out the slop-basin, shovelled in a
good heap of sugar, and then proceeded to empty the teapot, holding the
lid in its place with one fat finger the while.

This done, he emptied the little milk jug also, stirred all well up
together, and left it for a few minutes to cool, what time he took the
cottage loaf from the white, well-scrubbed trencher, pulled it in two,
took a handful of bread out of one half, and raising the lump of fresh
Somersetshire butter on the point of a knife, he dabbed it into the hole
he had made in the centre, shut it up by replacing the other half of the
bread, and then taking out his handkerchief spread it upon his knee and
tied the loaf tightly therein. Then for a moment or two he hesitated
about taking the knife, but finally concluding that the clasp knife in
his pocket would do, he laid the blade on the table, gave his tea a
final stir, gulped down the basinful, tucked the loaf in the
handkerchief under his left arm, his hat very much on one side, and then
walked out and through the gate, which he closed with a loud bang.

"Oh!" ejaculated Sally, who had run to the bedroom window, "he has
gone!"

Sally was quite right, Jem, her husband, was gone away to his favourite
place for smoking a pipe, down on the West Main wharf, where he seated
himself on a stone mooring post