"Well?" said he, suddenly; "what do you want?"
"Nothing much," she replied. "I'm dying, you know, Robbie."
"What's the matter?" asked he.
"Consumption."
"Humph! It's been a long time. What have you been doing?"
"I've been living up north—in Albany. I took another name, you know, as soon as I left New York. There's a child, Robbie."
"Oh!" exclaimed the other. "Sure enough! A boy?"
"No, a girl."
"Humph! Must be—let's see—twelve years old now."
"Thirteen, Robbie. That's what I've come to see you about."