"What they see in 'im!" whispered the astounded Mr. Thompson to his wife.

"And did you marry the beautiful girl in the photograph?" demanded Mrs.
Boxer, in trembling accents.

"I did," said her husband.

"Hussy," cried Mrs. Boxer.

"I married her," said Mr. Boxer, considering--"I married her at
Camberwell, in eighteen ninety-three."

"Eighteen ninety-three!" said his wife, in a startled voice. "But you
couldn't. Why, you didn't marry me till eighteen ninety-four."

"What's that got to do with it?" inquired the monster, calmly.

Mrs. Boxer, pale as ashes, rose from her seat and stood gazing at him
with horror-struck eyes, trying in vain to speak.

"You villain!" cried Mrs. Gimpson, violently. "I always distrusted you."

[Illustration: "'You villain!' cried Mrs. Gimpson, violently. 'I always
distrusted you.'"]

"I know you did," said Mr. Boxer, calmly. "You've been committing
bigamy," cried Mrs. Gimpson.

"Over and over agin," assented Mr. Boxer, cheerfully. "It's got to be a