enough to her about it. There's nothing wanted but a little
attention."

"It is too bad, indeed," I added.

"There's that fishy smell again!" exclaimed Mr. Smith. "What can it
be?"

"Fishy smell! So there is."

"Did you get any mackerel from the store yesterday?"

"None."

"Perhaps Hannah ordered some?"

"No. I had a ham sent home, and told her to have a slice of that
broiled for breakfast."

"I don't know what to make of it. Every now and then that same smell
comes up through the register--particularly in the morning. I'll bet
a sixpence there's some old fish tub in the cellar of which she's
made kindling."

"That may be it," said I.

And, for want of a better reason, we agreed, for the time being,
upon that hypothesis.

At the end of another four days, word came up that our best sperm