"Humph! Does she love or hate _you_?"

"Ask her."

"You talk bosh. If she hated you, you'd get out. If she loved you
I'd _make_ you get out."

Joe McDonald whistled a little, then laughed.

"Now that we are on the subject, I might as well ask--honestly, old
man, wouldn't you and Christie prefer keeping house alone to having
me always around?"

"Nonsense, sheer nonsense. Why, thunder, man, Christie's no end fond
of you, and as for me--you surely don't want assurances from me?"

"No, but I often think a young couple--"

"Young couple be blowed! After a while when they want you and your
old surveying chains, and spindle-legged tripod telescope kickshaws,
farther west, I venture to say the little woman will cry her eyes
out--won't you, Christie?" This last in a higher tone, as through
clouds of tobacco smoke he caught sight of his wife passing the
doorway.

She entered. "Oh, no, I would not cry; I never do cry, but I would
be heart-sore to lose you Joe, and apart from that"--a little
wickedly--"you may come in handy for an exchange some day, as
Charlie does always say when he hoards up duplicate relics."