`Shall you bring any fish home, father?'

`Yes Jerry.'

`Yes, Jerry,' repeated Mr. Cruncher, sitting down to tea. `Ah! It is yes, Jerry. That's about it. You may say yes, Jerry.'

Mr. Cruncher had no particular meaning in these sulky corroborations, but made use of them, as people not unfrequently do, to express general ironical dissatisfaction.

`You and your yes, Jerry,' said Mr. Cruncher, taking a bite out of his bread-and-butter, and seeming to help it down with a large invisible oyster out of his saucer. `Ah! I think so. I believe you.'

`You are going out to-night?' asked his decent wife, when he took another bite.

`Yes, I am.'

`May I go with you, father?' asked his son, briskly.

`No, you mayn't. I'm a going--as your mother knows--a fishing. That's where I'm going to. Going a fishing.'

`Your fishing rod gets rather rusty; don't it, father?'

`Never you mind.'

`Shall you bring any fish home, father?'

`If I don't, you'll have short commons, tomorrow,' returned that gentleman, shaking his head; `that's questions enough for you; I ain't a going out, till you've been long a-bed.'

He devoted himself during the remainder of the evening to keeping a most vigilant watch on Mrs. Cruncher, and sullenly holding her in conversation that she might be prevented from meditating any petitions to his disadvantage. With this view, he urged his son to hold her in conversation also, and led the unfortunate woman a hard life by dwelling on any causes of complaint lie could bring against her, rather than he would leave her for a moment to her own reflections. The devoutest person could have rendered no greater homage to the efficacy of an honest prayer than he did in this distrust of his Mile. It was as if a professed unbeliever in ghosts should be frightened by a ghost story.

`And mind you!' said Mr. Cruncher. `No games tomorrow! If I, as a honest tradesman, succeed in providing a jinte of meat or two, none of your not touching of it, and sticking to bread. If I, as a honest tradesman, am able to provide a little beer, none of your declaring on water. When you go to Rome, do as Rome does. Rome will be a ugly customer to you, if you don't. `I'm your Rome, you know.'

Then he began grumbling again:

`With your flying into the face of your own wittles and drink! I don't know how scarce you mayn't make the wittles and drink here, by your flopping tricks and your unfeeling conduct. Look at your boy: he is your'n, ain't he? He's as thin as a lath. Do you call yourself a mother, and not know that a mother's first duty is to blow her boy out?'