My face, which was red enough before, now became like scarlet. A
moment longer I remained at the table, and then rising up quickly
took the impatient child in my arms, and carried him screaming from
the room. I did not return to grace the dinner table with my
unattractive presence. Of what passed, particularly, between my
husband and his friend Mr. Jones, who had left his luxurious dinner
at the hotel to enjoy "a plain family dinner" with his old
acquaintance, I never ventured to make enquiry. They did not remain
very long at the table; nor very long in the house after finishing
their frugal meal.

I have heard since that Mr. Jones has expressed commiseration for my
husband, as the married partner of a real termigant. I don't much
wonder at his indifferent opinion; for, I rather think I must have
shown in my face something of the indignant fire that was in me.

Mr. Smith, who was too much in the habit of inviting people home to
take a "family dinner" with him on the spur of the moment, has never
committed that error since. His mortification was too severe to be
easily forgotten.






CHAPTER VIII.

WHO IS KRISS KRINGLE?