In telling me, one day, of these kitchen misadventures, she actually shed tears, which so roused my sympathies that, with surprise, I exclaimed:  “Why do you not buy a new stove?” To my unassisted common sense that seemed the most practical thing to do.  “Why,” she replied, “I have never purchased a darning needle, to put the case strongly, without consulting Mr. S., and he does not think a new stove necessary.”  “What, pray,” said I, “does he know about stoves, sitting in his easy-chair in Washington?  If he had a dull old knife with broken blades, he would soon get a new one with which to sharpen his pens and pencils, and, if he attempted to cook a meal—­granting he knew how—­on your old stove, he would set it out of doors the next hour.  Now my advice to you is to buy a new one this very day!”

“Bless me!” she said, “that would make him furious; he would blow me sky-high.”  “Well,” I replied, “suppose he did go into a regular tantrum and use all the most startling expletives in the vocabulary for fifteen minutes!  What is that compared with a good stove 365 days in the year?  Just put all he could say on one side, and all the advantages you would enjoy on the other, and you must readily see that his wrath would kick the beam.”  As my logic was irresistible, she said, “Well, if you will go with me, and help select a stove, I think I will take the responsibility.”

Accordingly we went to the hardware store and selected the most approved, largest-sized stove, with all the best cooking utensils, best Russian pipe, etc.  “Now,” said she, “I am in equal need of a good stove in my sitting room, and I would like the pipes of both stoves to lead into dumb stoves above, and thus heat two or three rooms upstairs for my children to play in, as they have no place except the sitting room, where they must be always with me; but I suppose it is not best to do too much at one time.”  “On the contrary,” I replied, “as your husband is wealthy, you had better get all you really need now.  Mr. S. will probably be no more surprised with two stoves than with one, and, as you expect a hot scene over the matter, the more you get out of it the better.”

So the stoves and pipes were ordered, holes cut through the ceiling, and all were in working order next day.  The cook was delighted over her splendid stove and shining tins, copper-bottomed tea kettle and boiler, and warm sleeping room upstairs; the children were delighted with their large playrooms, and madam jubilant with her added comforts and that newborn feeling of independence one has in assuming responsibility.

She was expecting Mr. S. home in the holidays, and occasionally weakened at the prospect of what she feared might be a disagreeable encounter.  At such times she came to consult with me, as to what she would say and do when the crisis arrived.  Having studied the genus homo alike on the divine heights of exaltation and in the valleys of humiliation, I was able to make some valuable suggestions.