Mrs. Porter laughed--a fat, comfortable laugh, but with a touch of
hardness in it.

"All right, mate," she said, comfortably. "What are you out on strike
for?"

"Shorter hours and more money," said Mr. Porter, glaring at her.

His wife nodded. "So am I," she said. "I wonder who gets it first?"

She smiled agreeably at the bewildered Mr. Porter, and, extracting a
paper packet of cigarettes from her pocket, lit a fresh one at the stub
of the first.

"That's the worst of a woman," said her husband, avoiding her eye and
addressing a sanitary dustbin of severe aspect; "they do things without
thinking first. That's why men are superior; before they do a thing they
look at it all round, and upside down, and--and--make sure it can be
done. Now, you get up in a temper this morning, and the first thing you
do--not even waiting to get my breakfast ready first--is to go on strike.
If you'd thought for two minutes you'd see as 'ow it's impossible for you
to go on strike for more than a couple of hours or so."

"Why?" inquired Mrs. Porter.

"Kids," replied her husband, triumphantly. "They'll be coming 'ome from
school soon, won't they? And they'll be wanting their dinner, won't
they?"

"That's all right," murmured the other, vaguely.