No, I don't dast to.

Not yet.
Not till I see how ma comes out.

Mebby she'll purchase one before she gits through being talked to.' "I set straight upward on my hotly warmed chair.

'Being talked to!' I says, astonished.
"'Yes,' says the sweet sample of girl.

'Your son, you know, Mister Samuel Mills; he's in the front room interviewing ma.' "'My son!' I ejaculates weakly, the thermometer in my spinal backbone going up ten thousand degrees hotter.
"'Such an oldish son, too,' she says, sinfully joyous, 'for such a youngish father.