Australian Tales - Setis

as sound as new saucepans. He was strictly temperate in his habits, and
had never trifled with his naturally strong constitution; and as he always
lay down in peace with God, and at peace with all the world, he passed
very few sleepless hours in his bed. His wife, on the contrary, seldom
slept throughout the night, and very often her sleepy spouse was aroused,
and pestered with her fidgety “night thoughts,” or her interminable
“curtain lectures.” On the night in question, Mrs. Lemonpip lay rolling
about as comfortless as'a seal in a warm bath, and every stray mosquito's
note sounded like a bugle in her excited ears. Her favourite Old Tom,
instead of soothing her and sending her to sleep, helped to increase her
irritability, and keep her awake. Poor soul! she had been bubbling over
with ill-humour all day, and had not had the satisfaction of pouring the
usual measure of wrath upon her docile partner; moreover, she had had
no servant to scold, which was an additional trial to her patience. She
was by no means pleased that Mr. Lemonpip had spent an agreeable
holiday, and spent a good many shillings too, while she had been so
bothered and overworked at home; and she knew that it would be vain to
try to compose herself to sleap, until she had fully unburdened her mind
of that matter. In fact, she had made up her mind to give him a long
lecture; and having thus resolved, she was not long in framing a pretext
for awakening him from his peaceful slumber; so she administered a
preliminary nudge in his ribs with her elbow (which made him cough),
and exclaimed sharply, “How you do snore, Lemonpip! I should like to
know who can sleep, while you make that noise?”
“Bless me! was I snoring? I beg your pardon, my duck,” said Mr.
Lemonpip, half awaking and turning over. “I'm very sorry I disturbed
you. I suppose I was lying on my back, and I believe I do breathe hard
when lying in that position.”
“Humph! lying on your back, or lying in any other way, it is all the
same with you, after you have been holiday-keeping, for you always
make a noise like an over-fed calf.”
Mr. Lemonpip was dosily conscious that a storm was brewing inside
his wife's breast, so he pulled his nightcap over his ears in silence, and
tried to go to sleep again.
“I smell fire! Are you sure you put that kerosene lamp out, Lemonpip?”
said the little mischief-maker, who was well aware that nothing would so
soon arouse her husband as an alarm, or even a suspicion of fire.
“Eh, what, fire?” exclaimed Mr. Lemonpip, who was thoroughly awake
in a moment, and sitting up in the bed he began sniffing and trying his
utmost to smell the element he most dreaded.
“Lie down, Lemonpip,” said his wife pettishly, “you are letting the
wind into the bed, and making me shiver. Lie down I say, directly.”
“Well, my dear, I don't like to lie down if the house is on fire. I can't
smell anything to be sure, but I've got a slight cold in my head. I'll go