W. W. Jacobs

“ He took a chair by the window, and, while his wife busied herself in the kitchen, sat gazing in blank delight at the little street. Two hundred a year! It was all he could do to resume his wonted expression as his wife re-entered the room and began to lay the table. His manner, however, when she let a cup and saucer slip from her trembling fingers to smash on the floor left nothing to be desired.
"It's nice to have money come to us in our old age," said Mrs. Gribble, timidly, as they sat at tea. "It takes a load off my mind."
"Old age!" said her husband, disagreeably. ”

“ Gribble's figure.
"I—I got home—quick as I could—Henry," said Mrs. Gribble, panting.
"Where is my tea?" demanded her husband. "What do you mean by it? The fire's out and the kitchen is just as you left it."
"I—I've been to a lawyer's, Henry," said Mrs. Gribble, "and I had to wait."
"Lawyer's?" repeated her husband.
"I got a letter this afternoon telling me to call. Poor Uncle George, that went to America, is gone."
"That is no excuse for neglecting me," said Mr. Gribble. "Of course people die when they are old. Is that the one that got on and made money?" ”

“ Then, kicking a chair out of his way, he took his hat from its peg in the passage and, with a bang of the street-door that sent a current of fresh, sweet air circulating through the house, strode off to the Grafton Arms. ”

“ Gribble, to avoid wasting money over necessaries, contrived to spend an unduly large portion on personal luxuries.
"We ought to have some new things for the kitchen," she said one day.
"No money," said Mr. Gribble, laconically.
"And a mat for the bathroom."
Mr. Gribble got up and went out.
She had to go to him for everything. Two hundred a year and not a penny she could call her own! She consulted her heart, and that faithful organ responded with a bound that set her nerves quivering. ”

“ You want to waste money on show; that's what you want. Stained glass and bow-windows! You want a bow-window to loll about in, do you? Shouldn't wonder if you don't want a servant-gal to do the work."
Mrs. Gribble flushed guiltily, and caught her breath.
"We're going to live as we've always lived," pursued Mr. Gribble. "Money ain't going to spoil me. I ain't going to put on no side just because I've come in for a little bit. If you had your way we should end up in the workhouse."
He filled his pipe and smoked thoughtfully, while Mrs. Gribble cleared away the tea-things and washed up. ”