“Do you think, Paley, that I want to go to housekeeping in a little, narrow contracted box like this?” she added.
“I thought you liked the house, dearest Lilian.”
“I like it very well for Mrs. Pierce Glasswood, but not for Mrs. Paley Glasswood.”
“I am sorry you don’t like it, for it is too late now to recede,” I replied, gasping for breath. “I was sure it would please you.”
“What possible fault can you find with it?”
“It don’t suit me. How could you do such a thing, Paley, as to hire a house and furnish it, without saying a word to me?”
By this time I had come to the conclusion that it was very stupid in me to do it.
“Well, you have surprised me,” she snapped, with such a sweet expression of contempt that I was almost annihilated. “Do you think a lady has no will of her own? No taste, no judgment, no fancy? How could you be so ridiculous as to furnish a house without asking my advice? Could you have found a homelier carpet in Boston, if you had looked for one, than this very carpet under our feet?”
“Buckleton said it was the handsomest one in the city, and the neatest pattern.”
“Then Buckleton has no taste. No one can select a carpet for a woman. What did you put that cold oil-cloth on the entry for? I should think you imported it from the polar regions on purpose to give me a chill every time I see it! The figure in the parlor carpet is large enough for a room a hundred feet square. That great blundering tete-a-tete is fit for a bar-room, but not for a parlor. There is no end to the absurdities in this house.”
“Now, really, dearest Lilian, I was sure you would be pleased with every thing,” I pleaded.
“I am very sorry, Lilian; but I did everything with the hope of pleasing you.”
“Now here’s a pretty kettle of fish!” exclaimed my indignant bride. “What can we do?”
“I can’t alter the house, my dear, but I can change the furniture so as to suit you, though doing so will be very expensive,” I continued, meekly, as I endeavored to conciliate her.
We had been married only about four months, and the present occasion looked very much like a quarrel. I had not had the remotest suspicion that she was so spunky. It did occur to me that she was slightly unreasonable, if one so beautiful could be unreasonable. Her father was as poor as a church mouse. His house, as I have hinted, was meanly furnished, and certainly neither the house nor the furniture was worthy to be compared with the one I had provided for my little wife. She had no reason for putting on airs, and being so fiercely critical about the carpets and the chairs. They were vastly better than she had ever had at home.