I looked at my father, who did not seem to relish the hint, but he answered very frankly, “If you cut them as short as my wife cut mine, why, then you won’t be troubled with them any more.  I see, marm, you know all about it, and you may have your laugh if it pleases you; but I can tell you that my tail has done me better sarvice since it was off than when it hung down my back.”

“Become useful, instead of ornamental, I presume, Mr. Saunders.”

“Just made this difference—­when it was on it made my wife’s tongue to go; now it is off, it has stopped it.”

“An extraordinary powerful instrument, to stop a woman’s tongue!”

“Well, you’ve only to ax Mistress Saunders, she’ll tell you all its virtues.”

“Well, Mr. Saunders, I don’t know whether you have any idea of taking another wife some future day.  If so, say nothing about it, or you’ll never get one.”

“Well, marm—­I don’t know whether you ever think of taking another husband; but if so, I think it would be kind on my part to lend it to him.  Can you tell me why widows’ tongues run so much faster than other women’s?”

“Mercy! what put that idea in your head, Mr. Saunders?”

“You, and half a dozen more that I happen to know.  May I make so bold as to ask you, marm, how long you may have been a widow?” continued my father.

“Bless me! so long that I quite forget all about it,” replied Mrs. St. Felix, turning away from the counter to the jars behind.

I gave my father a wink to let him know that it was his turn now:  he understood me, hitched up his waistband and nodded.

“How did you lose your first husband, marm?  What did he die of?”

The widow colored, and my father perceiving it, followed up his question.

“Did he die of a fever, marm?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” replied she, hurriedly.

“May I ask how long it is since he died?” continued my father.

“Oh!  Mr. Saunders,” replied the widow, confusedly, “I really don’t recollect just now.  It’s very painful to answer such questions.”

“Not if you’ve been a widow so long that you forget all about it; that’s all sham and nonsense.  So you ain’t sure what he died of, nor when it was that he died?  Are you quite sure, marm, that your husband is dead?”

Mrs. St. Felix started, turned very red, and then very pale.

“My sarvice to you for the present, marm,” said my father, after a pause, taking off his hat.  “I suspect that I’ve found a way to stop your tongue as well as my wife’s.  Broadside for broadside, that’s fair play.”

So saying, my father stumped away out of the shop door.  Mrs. St. Felix put her apron up to her eyes, with her elbows resting on the counter.  I waited a little, and then I said, “What is the matter, Mrs. St. Felix?”

She started at my voice.

“You here, Jack?  I thought you had gone out with your father.  Well,” continued she, wiping her eyes, “it serves me right.  I forgot that in amusing myself I annoyed him.  Jack, don’t you mention anything about this.  Do you think your father will?”