Australian Tales - Setis

under a shady tree, beside their pic-nic basket, and laughed till they
almost cried at the antics of the merry group before them, the merriest
amongst which was their respected friend, Mr. Lemonpip.
In the meantime little Mrs. Lemonpip was as joyless as a pelican with a
broken bill. Never was a woman so teazed and tormented as she, that is
to say, she thought so. Nine times during the afternoon did she answer
that clamorous brass knocker, at the summons of two beggars, four
hawkers, the postman, the milkwoman, and Mr. McSkilly; and as each
time the self-persecuted little body had to apply to the black bottle for a
thimbleful of comfort, by the time the last-named knocker arrived, Mrs.
Lemonpip was, as she herself admitted, as cross as two sticks; or, as Mr.
McSkilly whispered, in his own ears, “The auld body was mair than half
fou.”
“It is half-past six,” exclaimed the wrathy little woman, as she filled up
the tea-pot from the hissing kettle on the hob. “It's half-past six, and
Lemonpip ought to have been home long ago; he very well knows our
tea-time, and I shall not wait another minute, nor yet half a minute,” so
down she sat to the table, with her lodger, and began to pour out the tea,
and to pour into his unwilling ears a dolorous report of her woes and
worries during the day, to which he listened with as much display of
sympathy as she might have expected from a wooden highlander outside
a snuff-shop. After tea, which was hastily partaken of, Mr. McSkilly
went out for a walk, leaving his landlady “to nurse her wrath, and keep it
warm,” until the return of her henpecked husband.
Rat-tat went the knocker again, soon after eight o'clock. Mrs.
Lemonpip thought it was her late-staying spouse, so she hastened to the
door, hissing as she went, like a squib just before it goes bang; but, lo! to
her relief it was her new maid of all-work, with a band-box and bundle.
The next hour was occupied in showing Jemima the holes and corners of
the kitchen, and in explaining to her the routine of her duties, to which
Jemima every minute briefly replied, “Yes, mum.”
About nine o'clock Mr. Lemonpip returned home, very tired, but
pleased with the way he had spent his half-holiday; the only drawback to
his enjoyment was, he said, the absence of his little pop-gun. He soon
saw, however, from unmistakable signs, that the less he said to his popgun
that evening, the less probability there would be of an explosion; so
after explaining that he had taken tea with Mr. and Mrs. Docket, he took
a book and quietly sat down to study it, until Mr. McSkilly returned
home, when they had family prayer, and a little bit of supper, then they
all retired to rest, Mrs. Lemonpip having previously taken another little
drop of Old Tom, as usual, by way of a night-cap.
In a very short time Mr. Lemonpip was performing a sleeping
voluntary on his nasal organ, with open diapason, for he, happy old soul,
had no cares or anxieties to keep him awake, and all his organ pipes were