"I do not know. Will you please to take a chair?"
"Thank you." The young gentleman seated himself, wiped his brow, and threw his cap on the floor.
"I want some fishing. I made Mr. Kink's acquaintance, shooting, during the winter. Excuse me, are you his sister or his wife?"
"His wife, sir."
"You are very young."
To this Mehetabel made no reply.
"And uncommonly pretty," pursued Mr. Markham, looking at her with admiration. "Where the deuce did the Broom-Squire pick you up?"
The young mother was annoyed—a little color formed in her cheek.
"Can I give a message to Jonas?" she asked.
"A message? Tell him he's a lucky dog. By heaven! I had no idea that a pearl lay at the bottom of the Punch-Bowl. And that is your baby?"
"Yes, sir."