it. Bill said so. He's made a study o' that sort o' thing."

Mrs. Grummit pondered this simple plan so long that her husband began to
lose patience. At last, against her better sense, she rose and fetched
the weapon in question.

"And you be careful what you're hitting," she said, as they went upstairs
to bed. "We'd better have 'igh words first, I s'pose?"

"You pitch into me with your tongue," said Mr. Grummit, amiably.

Mrs. Grummit, first listening to make sure that the constable and his
wife were in the bedroom the other side of the flimsy wall, complied, and
in a voice that rose gradually to a piercing falsetto told Mr. Grummit
things that had been rankling in her mind for some months. She raked up
misdemeanours that he had long since forgotten, and, not content with
that, had a fling at the entire Grummit family, beginning with her
mother-in-law and ending with Mr. Grummit's youngest sister. The hand
that held the copper-stick itched.

"Any more to say?" demanded Mr. Grummit advancing upon her.

Mrs. Grummit emitted a genuine shriek, and Mr. Grummit, suddenly
remembering himself, stopped short and attacked the bed with
extraordinary fury. The room resounded with the blows, and the efforts
of Mrs. Grummit were a revelation even to her husband.

[Illustration: "Mr. Grummit, suddenly remembering himself, stopped short
and attacked the bed with extraordinary fury."]