'That you, Jo?' cried Clem's voice from upstairs.
'Me, sure enough,' was the reply, with a chuckle. 'Come up sharp,
then.'
Humming a tune, Joseph ascended to the sitting-room on the first
floor, and threw himself on a seat. His wife stood just in front of
him, her sturdy arms a-kimbo; her look was fiercely expectant,
answering in some degree to the smile with which he looked here and
there.
'Well, can't you speak?'
'No hurry, Mrs. Clem; no hurry, my dear. It's all right. The old
man's rolling in money.'
'And what about your share?'
Joseph laughed obstreperously, his wife's brow lowering the while.
'Just tell me, can't you?' she cried.
'Of course I will. The best joke you ever heard. You had yours
yesterday, Mrs. Clem; my turn comes to-day. My share is--just
nothing at all. Not a penny! Not a cent! Swallow that, old girl, and
tell me how it tastes.'
'You're a liar!' shouted the other, her face flushing scarlet, her
eyes aflame with rage.
'Never told a lie in my life,' replied her husband, still laughing
noisily. But for that last glass of cordial on the way home he could
scarcely have enjoyed so thoroughly the dramatic flavour of the
situation.
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