`` Precious few . Now and again you 'll come across a man whose wife wo n't put up with any nonsense and he has to be respectable . But the most of 'em are poor bargains -- poor bargains . '' `` And are all the wives saints ? '' I persisted . `` Laws , no , but they 're too good for the men , '' retorted Aunt Philippa , as she turned in at her own gate . Her house was close to the road and was painted such a vivid green that the landscape looked faded by contrast . Across the gable end of it was the legend , `` Philippa 's Farm , '' emblazoned in huge black letters two feet long . All its surroundings were very neat . On the kitchen doorstep a patchwork cat was making a grave toilet . The groundwork of the cat was white , and its spots were black , yellow , grey , and brown . `` There 's Joseph , '' said Aunt Philippa . `` I call him that because his coat is of many colours . But I ai n't no lover of cats . They 're too much like the men to suit me . '' `` Cats have always been supposed to be peculiarly feminine , '' I said , descending . '' 'T was a man that supposed it , then , '' retorted Aunt Philippa , beckoning to her hired boy . `` Here , Jerry , put Prince away . Jerry 's a good sort of boy , '' she confided to me as we went into the house . `` I had Jim Spencer last summer and the only good thing about him was his appetite .
I put up with him till harvest was XXXXX , and then one day my patience give out .
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