University of Virginia Library

WHO WAS TO BLAME?

MRS. PULSEY was real indignant yesterday morning on finding the handle to the coal sieve not yet mended, although broken two weeks ago.

Mrs. Pulsey actually shed tears of vexation. The very day the handle was broken she told Mr. Pulsey, and he said he would attend to it at once; and he had continued to promise to do it with unimpeachable faithfulness. Mrs. Pulsey lost patience now; and her irritation found expression in words. Said Mrs. Pulsey,—

"I declare, this is just a little too much! It is not enough that I should sift the ashes, but that I should have to do it with a broken sieve. I am just tired of this thing, and I shall stand it no longer. I won't be put on like this by no Josiah Pulsey. I won't stand such treatment. I won't stand it a day longer."

And with the sieve in her hand, anger in her heart, and the tears running down her cheeks, she started in the house to overhaul the recreant, the shamefully neglectful husband.

Mr. Pulsey was in there. He had made ready to go down town to his work. He was slipping on his overcoat in some haste, when a sudden exclamation escaped him, and a scowl settled on his face. Mr. Pulsey had shoved his arm into the sleeve with force enough almost to have made it appear again half way across the street; but yet it did not show itself at the end of the sleeve. It was lodged inside,—lodged in a broken lining. For three weeks this lining had been broken. On every day in that time he had called his wife's attention to

the fault; and on each day she promised to attend to it when he came home at night. But the next morning his trusting and shoving hand would fetch up against the same snag. He lost all patience now. A violent imprecation flew from his lips, and his face flushed with anger. He spoke aloud in a voice made harsh with passion:—

"Hang me, if this isn't carrying things with a pretty high hand! I wonder what that woman thinks of herself, anyway! Three weeks ago I told her about that lining; and she has promised a hundred times to fix it, and it ain't done yet. By George! if I had a conscience like that, I would trade it off for a screw-driver without any handle, so to say I had something—curse me if I wouldn't! I'll give her a piece of my mind which she will understand!"

And he started for the yard just as she entered the back-door. They met half way in the kitchen. There was a scowl on his face; there were tears on hers.

She pushed the broken sieve at him, and impetuously opened her mouth.

"Josi"—Then she saw the overcoat with the broken lining, and his name sank from her lips. Simultaneously he shoved the overcoat towards her, and impetuously opened his mouth. "Han"—

Then he saw the sieve with the broken handle, and her name died on his lips.

She was the first to speak.

"Josiah," she said in a subdued voice, "let me take that coat, and mend it."

"Hannah," he rejoined in a softened tone, "give me that sieve till I fix it. You sha'n't sieve the ashes any more."

"Josiah!"

He had started to the door; but he turned on hearing her call. There were tears in her eyes now, fresh tears, but not of passion. Then there was an expression to the face which induced him to step hastily back, put his arm around her, and hide her face for an instant with his own.