"As to you, you poor weak sister," said Mrs. Slawson, turning to the
wife, "you've had your last lickin' so long as you live in this house.
Believe _me!_ I'm a hard-workin' woman, but I'm never too tired or too
busy to come in an' take a round out of your old man, if he should ever
dare lay finger to you again. _I_ don't mind a friendly scrap oncet in a
while with a neighbor. My muscles is good for more than your fat,
beer-drinkin' Dutchman's any day. Let him up an' try 'em oncet, an'
he'll see. Why don't you have some style about you an' land him one,
where it'll do the most good, or else--_leave_ him? But no, you wouldn't
do that--I _know_ you wouldn't! Some women has to cling to somethin',
no matter if they have to support it themselves."

Mrs. Langbein's inarticulate sobbing had passed into a spasmodic
struggle for breathless utterance.

"He--don't mean--no harm, Mis' Slawson. He's all right--ven he's soper.
Only--it preaks my heart ven he vips me, und I don't deserve it."

"Breaks your heart? It ain't your _heart I'm_ worryin' about. If he
don't break your bones you're in luck!"

"Und I try to pe a goot vife to him. I tend him hand und foot."

"Ye-es, I know you do," returned Martha dryly. "But suppose you just try
the _foot_ in the future. See how it works."

"I to my pest mit dryin' to pe a goot cook. I geep his house so glean as
a bin. Vat I _don't_ do, Gott weiss, I don't know it. I ain't esk him
for ein tcent already. I ain't drouble him mit pills off of de grocer
oder de putcher, oder anny-von. I makes launtry efery veek for some