If one man is unattainable to a woman all the other creatures take on the hue of being valuable from the reflection.  Caroline is pathetic!

“It would be robbing a woman of a privilege not to let her trot the colic out of her own baby,” Sallie got near enough in sight of the discussion to shout softly from the rear.

I have often seen Cousin Martha on one side of the fire trotting the Pup, and Cousin Jasmine on the other ministrating likewise to the Kit. so Sallie could take a good nap, which she didn’t at all need, on the long sofa in the living-room at Widegables.

“Ned is a delightful man and, of course, Mamie adores him.”  Nell agreed with an attitude of mind like to the attitude of a body sustained on the top rail of a shaky fence.

“He doubtless would be just as delightful to Mamie standing by dropping asafetida into a spoon to administer to the baby, as he is dancing with you at the Assembly, Nell,” I said, still frothy around the temper.

“He’ll never do it again,” was the prompt result I got from my shot.

“The trouble with you, Evelina,” said Sallie, with ruminative reflectiveness in her eyes, “is that you have never been married and do not understand how noble a man can be under—­”

“Yes, I should say that you had hit Evelina’s trouble exactly on the head, Sallie,” came in Polk’s drawl as he came over the rose hedge from the side street and seated himself beside Caroline on the steps.

“Well, if I ever have a husband he’ll prove his nobility by being competent to make the correct connection between the asafetida spoon and his own baby,” was the answer that came with so much force that I couldn’t stop it after I fully realized Folk’s presence and sex.

“Help!” exclaimed Polk, weakly, while Nell blushed into the fold of her ruffle, Caroline looked slightly shocked and Sallie wholly scandalized at my lack of delicacy.

I felt that the place had been reached, the audience provided, and the time ripe for the first gun in my general revolution planned for Glendale.  I spoke calmly in a perfect panic of fear.

“I am glad Polk is here to speak for the masculine side of the question,” I said, looking all the three astonished women straight in the face.  “Polk, do you or do you not think that a man with a wife and seven children ought to assume at least some of the domestic strain resulting therefrom, like dropping the asafetida in the spoon for her while she is wrestling with the youngest-born’s colic?”

“Do I have to answer?” pleaded Polk, with desperation.

“Yes!”

“Then, under the circumstances I think the man ought to say:  ’To hell with the spoon,’ grab a gun, go out and shoot up a bear and a couple of wild turkeys for breakfast, throttle some coin out of some nearby business corporation, send two to five trained nurses back to the wigwam, stay down town to lunch and then go home with a tender little kiss for the madame who meets him fluffy and smiling at the door.  That’s my idea of true connubial bliss.  Applications considered in the order of their reception.  Nell, you are sweet enough to eat in that blue muslin.  I’m glad I asked you to get one just that shade!”