"LET US QUARREL TO-MORROW."
By N. H. Junior
My wife is one of the sweetest little women in the whole world, and I am not considered peculiarly cranky, but sometimes differences would arise, beginning with the most trivial things, which, however, being duly nursed, became of monumental proportions, and often threatened the peace of the family. Of course, I was commonly the one to blame; in fact, as I look back on it now, I am sure I was always to blame, for I should have had the wisdom to give way to the non-essentials, and by a little restraint and gentle talk win my little wife over to my way of thinking. But, instead of that, I feared I should sacrifice my dignity (!) as head of the family, by yielding. So sometimes I went to business without my good-by kiss, and two people were miserable all day. But my little wife had an inspiration (most women have when things come to the breaking point), and the next time our argument was drifting near the danger line, she turned aside the collision by this womanly suggestion, "Howard, dear, let's quarrel to-morrow!" This was a proposal for an armistice. What husband could refuse? "All right," I said, "we will put it off till to-morrow," and we laughed and talked of other things. But to-morrow did not come. Indeed, to-morrow never comes; it's always a day ahead; and if we can only keep our quarrels until then, there will be no more heart-broken little wives at home, and fewer blue husbands at the store or office. "Let's quarrel to-morrow!"—N. H. Junior.