"Law, Mr Handycock," said his wife, from the top of the stairs, "how can you be so cross? I told him to open the door to surprise you."
"And you have surprised me," replied he, "with your cursed folly."
While Mr Handycock was rubbing his boots on the mat, I went upstairs rather mortified, I must own, as my father had told me that Mr Handycock was his stockbroker, and would do all he could to make me comfortable: indeed, he had written to that effect in a letter, which my father showed to me before I left home. When I returned to the parlour, Mrs Handycock whispered to me, "Never mind, my dear, it's only because there's something wrong on 'Change. Mr Handycock is a _bear_ just now." I thought so too, but I made no answer, for Mr Handycock came upstairs, and walking with two strides from the door of the parlour to the fire-place, turned his back to it, and lifting up his coat-tails, began to whistle.
"Are you ready for your dinner, my dear?" said the lady, almost trembling.
"If the dinner is ready for me. I believe we usually dine at four," answered her husband, gruffly.
"Jemima, Jemima, dish up! do you hear, Jemima?" "Yes, marm," replied the cook, "directly I've thickened the butter;" and Mrs Handycock resumed her seat, with, "Well, Mr Simple, and how is your grandfather, Lord Privilege?" "He is quite well, ma'am," answered I, for the fifteenth time at least. But dinner put an end to the silence which followed this remark. Mr Handycock lowered his coat-tails and walked downstairs, leaving his wife and me to follow at our leisure.
"Pray, ma'am," inquired I, as soon as he was out of hearing, "what is the matter with Mr Handycock, that he is so cross to you?"
"Vy, my dear, it is one of the misfortunes of mater-mony, that ven the husband's put out, the vife is sure to have her share of it. Mr Handycock must have lost money on 'Change, and then he always comes home cross. Ven he vins, then he is as merry as a cricket."
"Are you people coming down to dinner?" roared Mr Handycock from below. "Yes, my dear," replied the lady, "I thought that you were washing your hands." We descended into the dining-room, where we found that Mr Handycock had already devoured two of the whitings, leaving only one on the dish for his wife and me. "Vould you like a little bit of viting, my dear?" said the lady to me. "It's not worth halving," observed the gentleman, in a surly tone, taking up the fish with his own knife and fork, and putting it on his plate.