"Is, eh? Well, call her into the parlor, I'll be down—ah-h, that infernal twinge again, ah-h-h-h, ah-h! What a stupid ass a man is to hang around in this world until he's a nuisance to himself and every body else!" grunted old Job, as he groped his way down stairs, and into the parlor.
"Good morning, ma'am," said he, as he confronted the widow, who, in the utmost taste of simple neatness, had arranged her spare dress, to meet the umpire of her future fate.
Mrs. Glenn respectfully acknowledged the salutation, and at once opened her business to the bluff old man.
"Yes, yes; I'm a poor, unfortunate creature, ma'am; I'm nothing, nobody, any more. I want somebody to see that I'm not robbed, or poisoned, and that I may have a bed to lie upon, and a clean piece of linen to my back occasionally, and a—that's all I want, ma'am."
The widow feigned to hope she knew the duties of a housekeeper, and situated as she was, it was a labor of love to work—toil, for those misfortune had placed in her charge.
"Eh? what's that—haven't got incumbrances, have you, ma'am?"
"I have three children, sir," meekly said the widow.
"Three children?" gruffly responded the old gentleman; "ah, umph, what business have you, ma'am, with three children?"
"Three children?" gruffly responded the old gentleman. "Ah, umph, what business have you, ma'am, with three children?"—[Page 393].