Chapter III

Mr. Washburn had a couple of his intimate friends at his house to play a game of whist the next evening, and the devoted wife resolved to try the effect of a smoke in their presence.

When the party were seated, Mr. Washburn passed round his cigar case.

“Won’t you smoke, my dear?” asked he, tendering the cigars to his wife.

“I will; but you know, Joseph, that I never smoke your cigars; they do not suit my taste.”

Whew! that was cool!

Mrs. Washburn lit a Bagdad.

“Is it possible you smoke, Mrs. Washburn?” asked Mr. Barnes, astonished at the singular spectacle of a woman puffing away at a cigar, for all the world, like a loafer in a bar room.

“Occasionally, just to please my husband,” replied Mrs. Washburn, after she had blown out a long wreath of blue smoke.

“Yes, Barnes,” interposed Mr. Washburn; “it is more sociable, you know, to have company when one smokes. We are generally alone in the evening, and she is so kind as to smoke with me. Ah, Barnes, teach your wife to smoke, it is so pleasant to smoke with one’s wife.”

The lady was thunderstruck. Was it possible that he had no more respect for the proprieties of life than that? She smoke? She had already acquired the reputation of being a smoker, without having produced any of the anticipated good results.

Mrs. Washburn threw the lighted Bagdad into the stove. She had almost cried with vexation.

“Not smoke, my dear?” said her husband.

“I think you can be sociable to-night, if I don’t smoke.”

“Do smoke, my dear; it gives me so much pleasure to see you enjoy a good cigar.”

“That’s too bad, Joseph.”

Mr. Washburn laughed outright, and throwing down his cards, explained the event of the preceding evening.

“I will own up; I did it to break him of the habit. I give it up!”

When the gentlemen had taken their leave, Mrs. Washburn explained by whose advice she had adopted the plan.

“Mrs. Volant has the reputation of being a perfect shrew. Her husband is a laughing stock for all State Street. She is a bad adviser.”

“How slick you have turned the joke upon me!” said Mrs. Washburn, laughing heartily.

“To tell the truth, I overheard some of your conversation when the plot was laid.”

“O, ho! you did? No wonder it failed, then.”

“I did; but, Mary, are you so very much against my smoking? I love the weed, but I love you more;” and Mr. Washburn kissed her tenderly.

“Nay, I will say no more about it. Perhaps I was selfish.”

“Not selfish; I will leave it off, my dear, for your sake.”

“No, no; I don’t want you to do so. If you are so very fond of smoking, I never will say another word about it.”

And Mr. Washburn has smoked his cigar in peace ever since.