I AM SITTING on the front porch looking at those girls wearing corsets in the Sears-Roebuck catalogue the other day when Harry Hubcap pulls up in front of the house in a new Morgan. Now this is a very startling turn of events, since Harry has always had a strong attachment for a TC which he buys just before he gets married. Naturally, I open the conversation on a questioning note.

“What happened to the TC, Harry?” I ask.

“I sacrificed it to a good cause,” says he.

“What cause?” I fired back.

“Cause I wanted some peace and quiet,” he retorts.

And then he gives me the details. It seems that ever since he has tied the knot, some months back, his wife has developed an increasing habit of letting her jaw flap at him every time he turns around. At first he lets it go, being newly married and all, but one day he decides that if this state of affairs is ever going to be stopped, it's going to have to be before the habit gets too firm a hold on his wife's vocal cords.

Now Harry is normally a very conscientious soul when it comes to taking care of his car, but the next time he knows his spark plugs are about shot he invites his bride for a Sunday afternoon spin instead of replacing them the way he would have normally. So they go for this ride and Harry crowds the car harder and harder until at last the plugs begin to miss.

“That's once,” he says, backing off the throttle a bit.

He wife doesn't say anything; just gives him a funny look. Pretty soon he's pushing it hard again and once more the plugs cut out.

“That's twice,” he says without twitching a muscle.

This time his wife gives him a real dirty frown, but when he ignores it she don't say anything. First thing you know those old plugs cut out again.

“That's three times,” he says.

Then, without batting an eye, he gets out of the car, gets a tire iron from behind the seat and proceeds to demolish the car. Busts in the grill, smashes the windshield, hammers dents into the hood and winds up by knocking all the spokes out on one wire wheel. When he's finished, he just stands there gazing thoughtfully at the wreckage.

Of course, his wife comes out of the car like a Ferrari taking off from a stop light. She really winds up and starts letting him have what-for about how he's acting like a fool and about what she thinks of one thing and another. Harry lets her go on for a couple of minutes and then he looks her straight in the eye.

“That's once,” he says.

And he hasn't heard one peep out of her since. Of course, I admit it's rather an expensive way of teaching a wife a lesson, but a man's got to have his peace and quiet—regardless of the cost.