Don't yuh reckon the kid knows when he's hungry? Why, good Lord!
I'll take and feed him myself, if you don't. I'll burn that
book--so help me!"

"Yes, you will--not!" Marie's voice rose shrewishly, riding
the high waves of the baby's incessant outcry against the
restrictions upon appetite imposed by enlightened motherhood.
"You do, and see what'll happen! You'd have him howling with
colic, that's what you'd do."

"Well, I'll tell the world he wouldn't holler for grub! You'd
go by the book if it told yuh to stand 'im on his head in the ice
chest! By heck, between a woman and a hen turkey, give me the
turkey when it comes to sense. They do take care of their young
ones--"

"Aw, forget that! When it comes to sense---"

Oh, well, why go into details? You all know how these domestic
storms arise, and how love washes overboard when the matrimonial
ship begins to wallow in the seas of recrimination.

Bud lost his temper and said a good many things should not have
said. Marie flung back angry retorts and reminded Bud of all his
sins and slights and shortcomings, and told him many of mamma's
pessimistic prophecies concerning him, most of which seemed
likely to be fulfilled. Bud fought back, telling Marie how much
of a snap she had had since she married him, and how he must have
looked like ready money to her, and added that now, by heck, he
even had to do his own cooking, as well as listen to her whining