"He washed his hands five times yesterday morning," said Dorothy, who had
just come in from the shop to her breakfast; "and kept customers waiting
while he did it, too."

"It's the cold-tub business I can't get over," said her mother. "I'm
sure it's more trouble to empty them than what it is to fill them.
There's quite enough work in the 'ouse as it is."

"Too much," said Bert, with unwonted consideration.

"I wish he'd leave me alone," said Gladys. "My food don't do me no good
when he's watching every mouthful I eat."

Of murmurings such as these Mr. Jobson heard nothing, and in view of the
great improvement in his dress and manners, a strong resolution was
passed to avoid the faintest appearance of discontent. Even when,
satisfied with his own appearance, he set to work to improve that of Mrs.
Jobson, that admirable woman made no complaint. Hitherto the brightness
of her attire and the size of her hats had been held to atone for her
lack of figure and the roomy comfort of her boots, but Mr. Jobson,
infected with new ideas, refused to listen to such sophistry. He went
shopping with Dorothy; and the Sunday after, when Mrs. Jobson went for an
airing with him, she walked in boots with heels two inches high and toes
that ended in a point. A waist that had disappeared some years before
was recaptured and placed in durance vile; and a hat which called for a
new style of hair-dressing completed the effect.

"You look splendid, ma!" said Gladys, as she watched their departure.
"Splendid!"