"Say," says my visitor, "I've spotted this house for two weeks and didn't know you had a baby. If you call that sharp-nosed woman, wifie, and that kid yonder, baby, I guess you're blessed enough and in need of sleep. Let's call it a draw. Thank Heaven I ain't married."
"You'll be sorry you didn't get married, if you don't," says I.
"That's all right," says he, "I'd a heap rather that I wasn't, than be married and sorry that I was."
Well, after much mutual congratulation, the midnight visitor finally took his leave.
I was about to go upstairs, when I heard talking down in the basement.
I thought that perhaps there were a few more poor devils down there who would sympathize with me, and went down to make their acquaintance.
I was mistaken.
It was only my servant, Bridget, talking to a policeman stationed on the beat.
I have a friend who had a very wild son about sixteen years of age. He could do absolutely nothing with him.