"That's because you are a child. What the devil does a woman know about business?"
The "ducky" cried a little, and was quite sure that John would go on and risk what he had, till he lost all.
"Little woman, none of your blubbering! It annoys me. Am I to be harassed by business all day, and have no peace when I come home?"
He settled himself to read the papers, once more, and the wife picked up the fretful, puny infant, and retreated to the kitchen, where she could indulge her sorrow without rebuke or interruption.
Presently, Bullion entered, though not unexpected; for he had given Fletcher an intimation, that, in order to have a private interview, he would endeavor to see him at home.
"Nice little box," said the capitalist, looking around. "Any babies?"
"One," said Fletcher.
"Boy or girl?"
"A girl."
"Bad. Girls always an expense. Dress, piano, parties, and d—d nonsense. Boys, you put 'em into harness and work 'em till they're willing to eat their wild oats; he! he!"