Mr. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair.

“Owen, Owen,” pursued Mrs. Wood, sinking into a chair, and fanning herself violently,—­“what a fluster you have put me into with your violence, to be sure!  And at the very time, too, when you know I’m expecting a visit from Mr. Kneebone, on his return from Manchester.  I wouldn’t have him see me in this state for the world.  He’d never forgive you.”

“Poh, poh, my dear!  Mr. Kneebone invariably takes part with me, when any trifling misunderstanding arises between us.  I only wish he was not a Papist and a Jacobite.”

“Jacobite!” echoed Mrs. Wood.  “Marry, come up!  Mightn’t he just as reasonably complain of your being a Hanoverian and a Presbyterian?  It’s all matter of opinion.  And now, my love,” she added, with a relenting look, “I’m content to make up our quarrel.  But you must promise me not to go near that abandoned hussy at Willesden.  One can’t help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object.”

Glad to make peace on any terms, Mr. Wood gave the required promise, though he could not help thinking that if either of them had cause to be jealous he was the party.

And here, we may be permitted to offer an observation upon the peculiar and unaccountable influence which ladies of a shrewish turn so frequently exercise over—­we can scarcely, in this case, say—­their lords and masters; an influence which seems not merely to extend to the will of the husband, but even to his inclinations.  We do not remember to have met with a single individual, reported to be under petticoat government, who was not content with his lot,—­nay, who so far from repining, did not exult in his servitude; and we see no way of accounting for this apparently inexplicable conduct—­for which, among other phenomena of married life, various reasons have been assigned, though none entirely satisfactory to us—­except upon the ground that these domineering dames possess some charm sufficiently strong to counteract the irritating effect of their tempers; some secret and attractive quality of which the world at large is in ignorance, and with which their husbands alone can be supposed to be acquainted.  An influence of this description appeared to be exerted on the present occasion.  The worthy carpenter was restored to instant good humour by a glance from his helpmate; and, notwithstanding the infliction he had just endured, he would have quarrelled with any one who had endeavoured to persuade him that he was not the happiest of men, and Mrs. Wood the best of wives.

“Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die,” observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—­a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent.