Mrs. T. Why, there’s nobody but I and my husband—and he was forty-one last March.
Inq. As you count yourself among the males, I dare say you wear the breeches.
Mrs. T. Well, what if I do, Mr. Impertinence? Is that anything to you? Mind your own business, if you please.
Inq. Certainly—I did but speak. How many white males are there between forty and fifty?
Mrs. T. None.
Inq. How many between fifty and sixty?
Mrs. T. None.
Inq. Are there any between this and a hundred?
Mrs. T. None except the old gentleman.
Inq. What old gentleman? You haven’t mentioned any before.