“The merchant ship Argonaut, a beastly old wash-trough; but it is too long a story to tell you now.”
“And—hello!—what the deuce have you got there? I thought it was your duster thrown over your shoulder, but now I see it is something alive. What the mischief is it?”
“You may well ask. It is an orphan child, for whom and for whose estates I have the honor to be appointed guardian and trustee.”
“Holy poker! You appointed guardian of a child! Why, I should as soon think of your being consecrated bishop of New York!”
“So should I,” coolly responded Hanson.
“You’ll bring the boy up a spendthrift.”
“It is a girl.”
“A girl! Whe—ew! Pray, are you ordained nursemaid to an infant girl?”
“None of your nonsense, Larkins. This responsibility was thrust upon me suddenly. I did not choose to retain the young girl who was the child’s maid. She was too pretty and vivacious.”
“For the interests of propriety; I see. I didn’t know you were so very particular! But, then, I suppose, being left guardian to a child does ‘solemnize’ a man. But why didn’t you find an old woman?”