His meal seemed somewhat to sober him.
"I say, mother," he began, pushing back his chair from the table, "you're livin' in luxury, while I'm a poor, miserable fellow without a home."
"I am sorry to hear it, Stephen. It is your own fault. You are surely able to earn a comfortable living for yourself."
"My health ain't good, and I can't get work half the time."
It seemed very ridiculous to one who observed his strong frame to think of him as being in poor health.
"Your health would be better if you would abstain from drink, Stephen," said Mrs. Palmer.
"Oh, hush up! I've had enough of that talk. I'm a gen'leman, and I'll do as I please. Mother, will you do me a favor?"
"What is it, Stephen?"
"Lend me five dollars. I'll pay it back 'morrow or next day—honor of a gen'leman."
Mrs. Palmer surveyed her visitor with some indignation, and answered, sharply: