"Yes, sir; it's time I was home and to bed. I ain't used to bein' up late nights now—don't agree with my constitution; it's sorter delicate. Shouldn't wonder if I was fallin' into a decline."
The quizzical dark eyes of the young man surveyed the rotund person before him, and in spite of himself he burst out laughing.
"Well, now, if you was in a decline yourself, you'd laugh t'other side of your mouth, I reckon," said the offended matron. "S'pose you think it's very funny laughing at a poor, lone 'oman, without chick nor child. But I can tell you——"
"Ten thousand pardons, madam, for my offense," he interrupted, courteously, though there was still a wicked twinkle in his eye. "Pray sit down for a moment; I have something to say to you."
"Well, now, it don't seem exactly right to sit here with you at this hour of the night. Howsomever, I will, to oblige you," and the worthy dame placed her ample frame in a cushioned elbow-chair.
"Perhaps this argument may aid in overcoming your scruples," said the young man, filling her a glass of wine, and throwing himself on a lounge; "and now to business. You are a widow?"
"Yes, sir. My blessed husband died a martyr to his country—died in the discharge of his duty. He was a custom-house officer, and felt it his duty always to examine liquors before destroying them. Well, one day he took too much, caught the devil-rum tremendous, and left me a disconsolate widder. The coroner of the jury set onto him, and——"
"There, there! never mind particulars. You have no children?"
"No," said the old woman stiffly, rather offended by his unceremonious interruption.
"If you were well paid, you would have no objection to taking one and bringing it up as your own?" said the young man, speaking quietly, though there was a look of restless anxiety in his fine eyes.