“I lived in Scottsford, New Brunswick, before I came here, Anne.  My sister kept house for me and she suited me fine; she was just reasonably tidy and she let me alone and spoiled me . . . so Emily says.  But three years ago she died.  Before she died she worried a lot about what was to become of me and finally she got me to promise I’d get married.  She advised me to take Emily Scott because Emily had money of her own and was a pattern housekeeper.  I said, says I, ’Emily Scott wouldn’t look at me.’  ‘You ask her and see,’ says my sister; and just to ease her mind I promised her I would . . . and I did.  And Emily said she’d have me.  Never was so surprised in my life, Anne . . . a smart pretty little woman like her and an old fellow like me.  I tell you I thought at first I was in luck.  Well, we were married and took a little wedding trip to St. John for a fortnight and then we went home.  We got home at ten o’clock at night, and I give you my word, Anne, that in half an hour that woman was at work housecleaning.  Oh, I know you’re thinking my house needed it . . . you’ve got a very expressive face, Anne; your thoughts just come out on it like print . . . but it didn’t, not that bad.  It had got pretty mixed up while I was keeping bachelor’s hall, I admit, but I’d got a woman to come in and clean it up before I was married and there’d been considerable painting and fixing done.  I tell you if you took Emily into a brand new white marble palace she’d be into the scrubbing as soon as she could get an old dress on.  Well, she cleaned house till one o’clock that night and at four she was up and at it again.  And she kept on that way . . . far’s I could see she never stopped.  It was scour and sweep and dust everlasting, except on Sundays, and then she was just longing for Monday to begin again.  But it was her way of amusing herself and I could have reconciled myself to it if she’d left me alone.  But that she wouldn’t do.  She’d set out to make me over but she hadn’t caught me young enough.  I wasn’t allowed to come into the house unless I changed my boots for slippers at the door.  I darsn’t smoke a pipe for my life unless I went to the barn.  And I didn’t use good enough grammar.  Emily’d been a schoolteacher in her early life and she’d never got over it.  Then she hated to see me eating with my knife.  Well, there it was, pick and nag everlasting.  But I s’pose, Anne, to be fair, I was cantankerous too.  I didn’t try to improve as I might have done . . .  I just got cranky and disagreeable when she found fault.  I told her one day she hadn’t complained of my grammar when I proposed to her.  It wasn’t an overly tactful thing to say.  A woman would forgive a man for beating her sooner than for hinting she was too much pleased to get him.  Well, we bickered along like that and it wasn’t exactly pleasant, but we might have got used to each other after a spell if it hadn’t been for Ginger.  Ginger was the rock we split on at last.  Emily