"I might," meekly said the widow, "put my son with the printer, sir; he has offered to take my poor boy."
"Two girls and a boy?" inquiringly asked the old gent, applying the dust, and manipulating his box. "How old? Eldest thirteen, eh?—boy eleven, and the youngest seven, eh?" and working a traverse, or solving some problematic point, Job Carson stuck his hands under his morning gown, and strode over the floor; after a few evolutions of the kind, he stopped—fumbled in a drawer of a secretary, and placing a ten dollar note in the widow's hand, he said:
"There, ma'am; I don't know that I shall want you, but to-morrow morning, if you have time, from other and more important business, call in, bring your children with you; good morning, ma'am—Banquo!"
"Yis, sah; I'se heah."
"Show the lady out—good morning, ma'am, good morning."
"I like that woman's looks," said old Job, continuing his walk; "she's plain and tidy; she's industrious, I'll warrant; if she only hadn't that raft of incumbrances; what do these people have incumbrances for, anyway?—"
"Lady at the doo-ah, sah," said Banquo.
"Show her in. Good morning, ma'am; Banquo, a seat for the lady; yes, ma'am, I did; I want a housekeeper. I advertised for one. How many servants do I keep? Well, ma'am, I keep as many as I want. Have visitors? Of course I have. What and where are my rooms? Why, madam, I own the house, every brick and lath in it. I go to bed, and get up, and go round; come in and out, when I feel like it. What church do I worship in? I've assisted in building a number, own a half of one, and a third of several; but, ma'am, between you and I—I don't want to be rude to a lady, ma'am, but I do think, this examination ain't to my liking—you don't think the place would suit you, eh? Well, I think your ladyship wouldn't suit me, ma'am, so I'll bid your ladyship good morning," said old Job, bowing very obsequiously to the stiff-starched and acrimonious dame, who, returning the old gentleman's bow with the same "high pressure" order, seized her skirts in one hand, and agitating her fan with the other, she stepped out, or finikined along to the hall door, and as Banquo flew around, and put on the extras to let her ladyship out, she gave the darkey a pat on the head with her fan, and looking crab-apples at the poor negro, she rushed down the steps and disappeared.
"Tank you, ma'am; come again, eb you please—of'n!" said the pouting negro.
"Yes, sah; here's nudder lady, sah," says Banquo, ushering in a rather ruddy, jolly-looking and perfectly-at-home daughter of the "gim o' the sae." The old gentleman eyed her liberal proportions; consulting his snuff-box, he answered "yes" to the woman's inquiry, if he was the gintleman wanting the housekeeper.