“I know you ’ave, Bert,” murmured the other.  “But, you see, she told me last night she’s going to try and get some of the other chaps’ wives to join ’er, so I thought I ought to tell you.”

Mr. Robinson started.  “Have you tried giving her a hiding?” he inquired.

Mr. Porter shook his head.  “I daren’t trust myself,” he replied.  “I might go too far, once I started.”

“What about appealing to her better nature?” inquired the other.

“She ain’t got one,” said the unfortunate.  “Well, I’m sorry for you,” said Mr. Robinson, “but I’m busy.  I’ve got to see a Labour-leader this afternoon, and two reporters, and this evening there’s the meeting.  Try kindness first, and if that don’t do, lock her up in her bedroom and keep her on bread and water.”

He moved off to confer with his supporters, and Mr. Porter, after wandering aimlessly about for an hour or two, returned home at mid-day with a faint hope that his wife might have seen the error of her ways and provided dinner for him.  He found the house empty and the beds unmade.  The remains of breakfast stood on the kitchen-table, and a puddle of cold tea decorated the floor.  The arrival of the children from school, hungry and eager, completed his discomfiture.

For several days he wrestled grimly with the situation, while Mrs. Porter, who had planned out her week into four days of charing, two of amusement, and Sunday in bed, looked on with smiling approval.  She even offered to give him a little instruction—­verbal—­in scrubbing the kitchen-floor.

Mr. Porter, who was on his knees at the time, rose slowly to his full height, and, with a superb gesture, emptied the bucket, which also contained a scrubbing-brush and lump of soap, into the back-yard.  Then he set off down the street in quest of a staff.

He found it in the person of Maudie Stevens, aged fourteen, who lived a few doors lower down.  Fresh from school the week before, she cheerfully undertook to do the housework and cooking, and to act as nursemaid in her spare time.  Her father, on his part, cheerfully under-took to take care of her wages for her, the first week’s, payable in advance, being banked the same evening at the Lord Nelson.

It was another mouth to feed, but the strike-pay was coming in very well, and Mr. Porter, relieved from his unmanly tasks, walked the streets a free man.  Beds were made without his interference, meals were ready (roughly) at the appointed hour, and for the first time since the strike he experienced satisfaction in finding fault with the cook.  The children’s content was not so great, Maudie possessing a faith in the virtues of soap and water that they made no attempt to share.  They were greatly relieved when their mother returned home after spending a couple of days with Aunt Jane.

“What’s all this?” she demanded, as she entered the kitchen, followed by a lady-friend.

“What’s all what?” inquired Mr. Porter, who was sitting at dinner with the family.