“Go it!” said Eliza. “Get a card for the cat as well. She knows a lot more cats than we know people!”
I could have given a sharp reply, but I preferred to remain absolutely quiet. I thought it might show Eliza that she was becoming rather vulgar. However, Eliza went on :
“Mother would hate it, I know that. To talk about cards, with the last ton of coals not paid for --- I call it absolutely wrong.”
I just walked straight out of the house, went down to Amrod’s and ordered those cards. When the time comes for me to put my foot down, I can generally put in down as well as most people. No one could be easier to live with than I am, and I am sure Eliza has found it so; but what I say is, if a man is not master in his own house, then where is he?
Amrod printed the cards while I waited. I suggested some little decoration --- a leaf in he corner, or a curved line under the name --- but Amrod was against this. He seemed to think that it was quite unnecessary, and it would have cost extra, and also he had nothing of the kind in stock. So I let that pass. The cards looked very well as they were, a little plain and formal, perhaps, but very clean (except in the case of a few where the ink was not quite dry), and very satisfying to one’s natural= self-respect.
That evening I took a small box, and packed in it very carefully some of the niecest flowers from the garden, and one of our cards. On the card I wrote, “With kindest love from,” just above the manes, and posted it to Eliza’s mother.
So far was Eliza’s mother from thinking that the money for the cards had been spent unnecessarily, that she sent Eliza a present of five shillings, and a parcel with three pounds of beef and nice apron.
I only mention this little happening to show whether, in this case, Elisa or I was right.