only time I have to talk to you, and you shall hear me. I'm put upon all
day long: it's very hard if I can't speak a word at night; besides, it is
n't often I open my mouth, goodness knows!

2. Because once in your lifetime your shirt wanted a button, you must
almost swear the roof off the house. You did n't swear? Ha, Mr. Caudle!
you don't know what you do when you're in a passion. You were not in a
passion, wer'n't you? Well, then, I don't know what a passion is; and I
think I ought by this time. I've lived long enough with you, Mr. Caudle,
to know that.

3. It's a pity you hav'n't something worse to complain of than a button
off your shirt. If you'd some wives, you would, I know. I'm sure I'm never
without a needle and thread in my hand; what with you and the children,
I'm made a perfect slave of. And what's my thanks? Why, if once in your
life a button's off your shirt--what do you cry "oh" at? I say once, Mr.
Caudle; or twice, or three times, at most. I'm sure, Caudle, no man's
buttons in the world are better looked after than yours. I only wish I'd
kept the shirts you had when you were first married! I should like to know
where were your buttons then?

4. Yes, it is worth talking of! But that's how you always try to put me
down. You fly into a rage, and then if I only try to speak, you won't hear
me. That's how you men always will have all the talk to yourselves: a poor
woman is n't allowed to get a word in. A nice notion you have of a wife,
to suppose she's nothing to think of but her husband's buttons. A pretty
notion, indeed, you have of marriage. Ha! if poor women only knew what
they had to go through!--what with buttons, and one thing and
another,--they'd never tie themselves up,--no, not to the best man in the
world, I'm sure. What would they do, Mr. Caudle?--Why, do much better