“Who have we here?” said Mrs Culpepper to her husband, in a sort of low croak; for she was so smothered with fat that she could not get her voice out.
“Well, I hardly know,” replied the gentleman, wiping his forehead; “but I’ve my own opinion.”
“Mercy on me, how very like!” exclaimed Miss Culpepper, looking at me, and then at her father. “Would not you like to go into the garden, little boy?” continued she: “there, through the passage, out of the door,—you can’t miss it.”
As this was almost a command, I did not refuse to go; but as soon as I was in the garden, which was a small patch of ground behind the house, as the window to the parlour was open, and my curiosity was excited by their evidently wishing to say something which they did not wish me to hear, I stopped under the window and listened.
“The very picture of him,” continued the young lady.
“Yes, yes, very like indeed,” croaked the old one.
“All I know is,” said Mr Culpepper, “Captain Delmar has desired me to fit him out, and that he pays all the expenses.”
“Well, that’s another proof,” said the young lady; “he wouldn’t pay for other people’s children.”
“He was brought down here by a very respectable-looking, I may say interesting, and rather pretty woman,—I should think about thirty.”
“Then she must have been handsome when this boy was born,” replied the young lady: “I consider that another proof. Where is she?”