SHOULD A WIPE KNOW HUBBY'S WORTH?

Cromwell Argus, 30 September 1929, Page 3 (Supplement)

SHOULD A WIPE KNOW HUBBY'S WORTH?

Financially, that is. Is it wise for a husband to divulge to his better-half the exact amount of his earnings, cash at bank —if any—or the total value of his savings certificates? It is not! The wise husband should remember that even the very best of wives is a woman, and the fair sex is inherently prone to be indiscreet and extravagant where money is concerned. The ladies (bless 'em!) simply cannot help it, for the predilection has come down to them throughout the ages, and it is feasible that when they wore animalskins which hadn't been through the furrier's hand the fair ancient who possessed a wolf's skin pined for the outer-covering of the more precious lion or tiger. It was probably all right, that wolf-skin of hers, until she heard of the rarer and more hardly-acquired pelts of the lion and tiger, and then that ancient feminine heart must have ached for another garment in place of the hitherto satisfactory one she was then wearing! And woman has not changed. The average wife of to-day is assailed by the temptation to spend more if she has more. If she believes that Jier husband's weekly income is (say) five pounds, the ideal wife will see to it that she keeps the home running within that limit, and the purchase of anything which would entail the exceeding of this limit is regarded by her as something unthinkable, no matter how attractive the article may be. And she will be satisfied with her lot, admitting that she is proportionately better off than her neighbor, whose husband only makes four pounds, ten shillings each week. . . . She is contented . . . . but only because she belioves that her hubby's income is so much and no more. Let her spouse indiscreetly disclose the fact that his earnings are actually £i pound more and at once even the ideal wife will look around for outlets for that additional money. The things she had only admired before have suddenly become accessible, and the cost of living in that household goes up accordingly. It is inevitable. The skin of the wolf has suddenly become commonplace and shabby, just as it did in that far-off yesterday, and she decides that something better must be acquired. Women are poor savers. In the majority of households the job of unearthing something substantial when the proverbial rainy day comes along is invariably left to the man, and, as the average married man speedily realises this fact when he sets up house with the lady of his choice, it is up to him to shoulder the onerous task with as cheerful a heart as possible. The max who trustfully leaves this matter of saving up for the future to his better-half is asking for trouble and a painful disillusionment in the future. The money which ought to be forthcoming to tide the family over a bad period will not be on hand, and all the reproaches in the world will not mend matters. Then, if a man must see to the stor-ing-up of funds for future needs, and even the ideal wife will spend according to what she thinks Hubby is worth the more ambiguous he is about his earnings the better his chances of effectively saving-up sufficient money to render old age and "rainy days" less fearful than they would be if the family had no reserves at all. Deception between husband and wife is to be deprecated, but this is a case where it seems to be justified, and for which in years to come his better-half may feel grateful to Fate for allowing her to remain ignorant of his actual earnings. —H.W. NO CHILDREN! The prospective tenant had inspected all the rooms, the coal-cellar, and the other conveniences of the flat, and had expressed himself satisfied. "Have you any children?" asked the porter. "I have." "Then you can't have the flat." "But you don't understand. My youngest child is thirty years old, married, and lives in Australia, and the other two are in America!" "That makes no difference," said the porter. "I have orders not to let this flat to anyone with children!" A TERRIBLE THOUGHT. Old Dugald, having retired from business, had acquired a house which contained some very good furniture, and was proudly displaying his possessions to a friend. "I say, Dugald," the visitor remarked, "that's a jolly fine table you've got there. Big, too." "Aye, it is that," Dugald agreed. "D'ye ken I could seat thirrty-fower fowk to dinner at you table —Heaven forbid!" STILL LOOKING. "Jones," said the bank manager, "there'll be a vacancy at the head office shortly, and I'm thinking of nominating your twin brother for the job." "My twin brother!" exclaimed Jones. "But " "I mean the one I saw watching a football match yesterday while you were at your aunt's funeral." "Oh —er —yes," said Jones. "I—l remember, sir! I—l'll go and fetch him." "Good!" said the manager. "And don't come back till you've found him." PHILOSOPHY OF A WOMAN. I've just 'ad a gramophone on the easy payment system. Believe me, it ain't as easy as it seems. I'm getting quite excited about this general election. I'm going to vote for the party wot say they'll do most good for the country. Cuthbert managed to lay 'is 'ands on a pair of boots the other day. But 'e's that careless. 'E never troubles to see that 'e's got the right size. Mrs. Fortesque's daughter is getting on fine with 'er music. "I love Mozart," she says to me. I suppose 'e's 'er teacher. t Mr. 'Opper down our street is a big spiritualist. You should see the way 'e brings the bottles in.