kitchen stove."

"I know," I said. "We have been in seven houses since we were married,
and every kitchen stove has been worse than the last. Our present one is
not only incompetent; it is spiteful. It knows when we are giving a
party, and goes out of its way to do its worst."

"_We_ are going to have a new one," said Harris, but he did not say it
proudly. "Clara thought it would be such a saving of expense, having the
two things done at the same time. I believe," said Harris, "if a woman
wanted a diamond tiara, she would explain that it was to save the expense
of a bonnet."

"How much do you reckon the stove is going to cost you?" I asked. I felt
interested in the subject.

"I don't know," answered Harris; "another twenty, I suppose. Then we
talked about the piano. Could you ever notice," said Harris, "any
difference between one piano and another?"

"Some of them seem to be a bit louder than others," I answered; "but one
gets used to that."

"Ours is all wrong about the treble," said Harris. "By the way, what
_is_ the treble?"

"It's the shrill end of the thing," I explained; "the part that sounds as
if you'd trod on its tail. The brilliant selections always end up with a
flourish on it."