THE MERCHANT'S WIFE
you believe me, in spite of all my care, he would sometimes return earlier and, as I learnt afterwards, remain outside until the clock struck eight, when he would creep in as though he had only just returned?
'But my great trouble only began a few weeks ago, when, one evening, having cooked his nightly turnip, I waited patiently for my good man's return. At length the clock struck eight, and, to my surprise, it was not immediately followed by my husband's timid knock. One minute passed; two minutes passed; three minutes passed; four minutes passed; and, on the fifth minute, there was a low knock at the door, and in crept the miserable man, and cowered to his place. But, as you may suppose, there was no turnip for him that night, until he had given a satisfactory explanation of his late return. The only excuse the frightened little ruffian had to offer was, that he had dropped a needle on the road, and had to return for it. So he went supperless to bed.
'The next evening, having warmed up the old turnip, I again awaited his return. Eight o'clock struck, and, to my even greater surprise, it was not followed by the merchant's knock, and this time it was six minutes past before he entered, and with no better excuse for his late arrival than that he had dropped a reel of cotton on the road, and had to return for it. "Let this be a lesson to you, my man," said I, as I once more put away the turnip, which he had been regarding with longing eyes, and sent him to bed.
