"And causes me as much pain, sometimes."

"I won't put up with such treatment from you, Mr. Tompkins," said
the good lady, passionately, and walked from the room with a stately
step and an effort at dignity. The husband retreated precipitately,
and sought his place of business. He sighed as he took his seat upon
a counting-house stool at the desk, and commenced turning over the
pages of various large account-books. While thus engaged, a person
entered his store, and was shown back to that portion of it where he
had retired. Mr. Tompkins looked up on hearing his name pronounced,
and met the steady eye of one whose presence was not very agreeable
to him just at that time.

"Ah, Mr. Wolford! How are you to-day? I am glad to see you," he
said, with an effort to seem pleased and indifferent.

"Very well. How are you?" was the blunt response.

"Take a chair, Mr. Wolford."

The visitor sat down, with considerable emphasis in his manner,
threw one leg over the other, and leaned back in his chair. Tompkins
was nervous. His effort to seem at ease led him into overaction.

He smiled, or rather smirked--for a smile is always natural, never
forced--and introduced various topics of conversation, one after the
other, with the manner of a man whose thoughts were far away from
his words, and who yet wished to be very agreeable to a personage
from whom he wished a favour.