were held with Mrs. Prodgit, under these circumstances, I will not
attempt to describe. I will merely remark, that Mrs. Prodgit
always consumed Sherry Wine while the deliberations were in
progress; that they always ended in Maria Jane's being in wretched
spirits on the sofa; and that Maria Jane's Mama always received me,
when I was recalled, with a look of desolate triumph that too
plainly said, 'NOW, George Meek! You see my child, Maria Jane, a
ruin, and I hope you are satisfied!'

I pass, generally, over the period that intervened between the day
when Mrs. Prodgit entered her protest against male parties, and the
ever-memorable midnight when I brought her to my unobtrusive home
in a cab, with an extremely large box on the roof, and a bundle, a
bandbox, and a basket, between the driver's legs. I have no
objection to Mrs. Prodgit (aided and abetted by Mrs. Bigby, who I
never can forget is the parent of Maria Jane) taking entire
possession of my unassuming establishment. In the recesses of my
own breast, the thought may linger that a man in possession cannot
be so dreadful as a woman, and that woman Mrs. Prodgit; but, I
ought to bear a good deal, and I hope I can, and do. Huffing and
snubbing, prey upon my feelings; but, I can bear them without
complaint. They may tell in the long run; I may be hustled about,
from post to pillar, beyond my strength; nevertheless, I wish to
avoid giving rise to words in the family.

The voice of Nature, however, cries aloud in behalf of Augustus
George, my infant son. It is for him that I wish to utter a few
plaintive household words. I am not at all angry; I am mild - but
miserable.