"I'm not going to have your mother 'ere," exclaimed Mr. Porter, with
sudden heat. "Mind that!"
"I don't want her," said Mrs. Porter. "It's a job for a strong, healthy
man, not a pore old thing with swelled legs and short in the breath."
"Strong--'ealthy--man!" repeated her husband, in a dazed voice.
"Strong--'eal---- Wot are you talking about?"
Mrs. Porter beamed on him. "You," she said, sweetly.
There was a long silence, broken at last by a firework display of
expletives. Mrs. Porter, still smiling, sat unmoved.
"You may smile!" raved the indignant Mr. Porter. "You may sit there
smiling and smoking like a--like a man, but if you think that I'm going
to get the meals ready, and soil my 'ands with making beds and washing-up,
you're mistook. There's some 'usbands I know as would set about you!"
Mrs. Porter rose. "Well, I can't sit here gossiping with you all day,"
she said, entering the house.
"Wot are you going to do?" demanded her husband, following her.
"Going to see Aunt Jane and 'ave a bit o' dinner with her," was the
reply.
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