some others of her class, she knew when she had a good place, and
had sense enough to keep it as long as she could stay.
In due time she cooled off, and I heard no more about her getting
another place.
“There’s that fishy smell again!” exclaimed my husband, as he arose
up in bed one morning, a day or two afterwards, and snuffed the air.
“And, as I live, the fire in the heater is all out again! I’ll have
some light on this subject, see if I don’t.”
And he sprung upon the floor, at the same time hurriedly putting on
his dressing gown and a pair of slippers.
“Where are you going?” said I, seeing him moving towards the door.
“To find out where this fishy smell comes from,” he replied,
disappearing as he spoke.
In about five minutes, Mr. Smith returned.
“Well, if that don’t beat all!” he exclaimed, as he re-entered the
chamber.
“What?” I very naturally enquired.
“I’ve found out all about that fishy smell,” said he.
“What about it? Where does it come from?”
“You wouldn’t guess in a month of Sundays! Well, this is a great
world! Live and learn!”
“Explain yourself, Mr. Smith. I’m all impatience.”
“I will; and in a few words. The fire was out in the heater.”
“Yes.”
“And I very naturally took my way down to where I expected to find
our lady at work in the re-kindling process.”
“Well?”
“Sure enough, there she was, kindling the fire with a vengeance.”
“With what?” I asked. “With a vengeance?”
“Yes, with a vengeance to my pocket. She had the oil can in her
hands, and was pouring its contents freely into the furnace, in
order to quicken combustion. I now understand all about this fishy
smell.”
“And I all about the remarkable disappearance of a gallon of oil in
four days. Kindling the fire with dollar and forty cent oil!”
“Even so!”
“What did you say to her, Mr. Smith?”
“Nothing. But I rather think she’ll not want me to look at her
again, the huzzy!”
“Kindling fire with my best sperm oil! Well, I can’t get over that!”
Something in this wise I continued to ejaculate, now and then, until
my astonishment fairly wore itself out.
I didn’t consider it worth while to say any thing to Hannah when I
went down stairs, thinking it best to let the look my husband spoke
of, do its work. By the way, I don’t much wonder that she was
frightened at his look—for he can—But I forgot—I am speaking of
my husband, and he might happen to read this.
Of course, Hannah’s days in my house were numbered. No faith was to
be placed in a creature who could so shamefully destroy a useful
