look whether a coal fire ever looked like that.

Madame--I should only be too well pleased to use up my pea-green wool; I
have a quantity of it.

Monsieur--Then where lies the difficulty?

Madame--The difficulty is that pea-green is not sufficiently religious.

Monsieur--Hum! (Humming.) Holy pains! (Spoken.) Will you be kind enough
to pass the bellows? Would it be indiscreet to ask why the poor pea-
green, which does not look very guilty, has such an evil reputation? You
are going in for religious needlework, then, my dear?

Madame--Oh, George! I beg of you to spare me your fun. I have been
familiar with it for a long time, you know, and it is horribly
disagreeable to me. I am simply making a little mat for the
confessional-box of the vicar. There! are you satisfied? You know what
it is for, and you must understand that under the present circumstances
pea-green would be altogether out of place.

Monsieur--Not the least in the world. I can swear to you that I could
just as well confess with pea-green under my feet. It is true that I am
naturally of a resolute disposition. Use up your wool; I can assure you
that the vicar will accept it all the same. He does not know how to
refuse. (He plies the bellows briskly.)

Madame--You are pleased, are you not?

Monsieur--Pleased at what, dear?