“The man I mentioned to you this morning, sir. His name is Jackson.”
“And pray, Mr. Carson, who is his wife?”
“Oh, by the by, Colonel, that's a little too close! I see the gentlemen smile; but they know I must beg to decline answering that question—-not that it matters much. We have all sown our wild oats in our time—myself as well as another—ha, ha, ha!”
“The fact, under other circumstances,” observed the Colonel, “could never draw an inquiry from me; but as it is connected with, or probably has occasioned, a gross, unfeeling, and an unjust act of oppression towards an honest man, I therefore alluded to it, as exhibiting the motives from which you acted. She is your illegitimate daughter, sir!”
“She's one o' the baker's dozen o' them, plase your honor,” observed a humorous little Presbyterian, with a sarcastic face, and sharp northern accent—“for feth, sir, for my part, A thenk he lies one on every hill head. All count, your honor, on my fingers a roun' half-dozen, all on your estate, sir, featherin' their nests as fast as they can.”
“Is this Jackson a good tenant, Mr. Carson?”
“I gave you his character this morning, Colonel B.”
“Hout, Colonel!” said the Presbyterian, “deil a penny rent the man pays, at all, at all. A'll swear a hev it from Jackson's own lips. He made him a Bailey, sir; he suts rent free. Ask the man, sir, for his receipts, an' a'll warrant the truth will come out.”
“I have secured Jackson's attendance,” said the Colonel; “let him be called in.”
The man in a few minutes entered.