“If you please, I was to be left till called for,” said the Stranger, mildly. “Don’t mind me.”
With that he took a pair of spectacles from one of his large pockets, and a book from another, and leisurely began to read. Boxer, the carrier’s big dog, came sniffing at his legs, but he took no more notice of Boxer than if he had been a lamb.
The carrier and his wife glanced at each other in perplexity. The Stranger raised his head; and looking from Dot toward John, said:
“Your daughter, my good friend?”
“Wife,” said John.
“Niece?” asked the Stranger.
“Wife,” roared John.
“Indeed?” observed the Stranger. “Surely—very young!”
Dot took the baby from the couch where Tilly Slowboy had laid him. The Stranger quietly resumed his reading; but before he had read two lines, he interrupted his reading to say to John:
“Baby yours?”