You have never had a meal in the kitchen,
you have never received wages, you have never had to account for money
spent. I have never scolded you because one thing or the other was not
to my liking. And do you consider my work: to reckon and to brace, to
ease off and call out 'Present arms,' count herrings and measure rum,
weigh peas and examine flour, more honourable than yours: to look
after the servants, cater for the house and bring up the children?"
"No, but you are paid for your work! You are your own master! You are
a man!"
"My dear child, do you want me to give you wages? Do you want to be my
housekeeper in real earnest? That I was born a man is an accident. I
might almost say a pity, for it's very nearly a crime to be a man
now-a-days, but it isn't my fault. The devil take him who has stirred
up the two halves of humanity, one against the other! He has much to
answer for. Am I the master? Don't we both rule? Have I ever decided
any important matter without asking for your advice? What? But you--you
bring up the children exactly as you like! Don't you remember that I
wanted you to stop rocking them to sleep because I said it produced a
sort of intoxication? But you had your own way! Another time I had mine,
and then it was your turn again.
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