I can't tell, Sir.

Don't tell fibs, dame Smith; don't tell fibs, chucking her under the
chin: which made John's upper-lip, with chin shortened, rise to his nose.
--I am sure you know!--But here's another pair of stairs: let us see: Who
lives up there?--but hold, here's another room locked up, tapping at the
door--Who's at home? cried I.

That's Mrs. Lovick's apartment. She is gone out, and has the key with
her.

Widow Lovick! rapping again, I believe you are at home: pray open the
door.

John and Joseph muttered and whispered together.

No whispering, honest friends: 'tis not manners to whisper. Joseph, what
said John to thee?

JOHN! Sir, disdainfully repeated the good woman.

I beg pardon, Mrs. Smith: but you see the force of example. Had you
showed your honest man more respect, I should. Let me give you a piece
of advice--women who treat their husbands irreverently, teach strangers
to use them with contempt. There, honest master John; why dost not pull
off thy hat to me?--Oh! so thou wouldst, if thou hadst it on: but thou
never wearest thy hat in thy wife's presence, I believe; dost thou?

None of your fleers and your jeers, Sir, cried John. I wish every
married pair lived as happily as we do.