"Last night they came into the parlour. Of course, in a night or
two, they'll walk up into the bedroom. They'll be here--regiments of
'em--on the quilt. But what do you care? Nothing of the sort ever
touches you: but you know how they come to me; and that's why you're
so quiet. A pleasant thing to have black-beetles in one's bed!

"WHY DON'T I POISON 'EM?

"A pretty matter, indeed, to have poison in the house! Much you must
think of the dear children. A nice place, too, to be called the
Turtle Dovery!

"DIDN'T I CHRISTEN IT MYSELF?

"I know that,--but then, I knew nothing of the black-beetles.
Besides, names of houses are for the world outside; not that anybody
passes to see ours. Didn't Mrs. Digby insist on calling their new
house 'Love-in-Idleness,' though everybody knew that that wretch
Digby was always beating her? Still, when folks read 'Rose Cottage'
on the wall, they seldom think of the lots of thorns that are inside.
In this world, Mr. Caudle, names are sometimes quite as good as
things.

"That cough again! You've got a cold, and you'll always be getting
one--for you'll always be missing the omnibus as you did on Tuesday,-
-and always be getting wet. No constitution can stand it, Caudle.
You don't know what I felt when I heard it rain on Tuesday, and
thought you might be in it. What?