His glance now fell on the small occupant of the decrepit baby carriage, and he gave a start of astonishment.
"Lord!" he ejaculated, pointing to the child.

"You don't mean to tell me that's yours, too ?" "Three weeks next Sunday," said Mrs.Montgomery.
"Another one,--well, I don't wonder you've kept still about it! What's the use of bringing children into the world when you can't half take care of 'em ?" "I didn't keep still about it,--only I had so much to worry me!" said Nellie, with a shadowy sort of resentment at the little lamplighter's words and manner.
"It's a nice-looking baby!" admitted Mr.Shrimplin, relenting.
"It's a boy, see--he's got his father's eyes and nose--" "I don't know about the eyes, but the nose is a durn sight whiter than Joe's! Maybe, though, when it's Joe's age it will use the same brand of paint." "What you got it in for Joe for?
He never done nothing to you!" said Joe's wife, with palpable offense.
"He ought to be stood up and lammed over the head with a club!" observed Mr.Shrimplin, with considerable acrimony of tone.

"You'd have thought that being a witness would have made a man out of Joe if anything would,--and how does he act?
Why, he lights out; he gets to be good for something beside soaking up whisky and spoiling his insides, and he skips the town; now if that ain't a devil of a way for him to act, I'd like to know what you call it!" "He was a good man--" declared Mrs.Montgomery with conviction.

"A good man, but unfortunate!" "Well, if he suits you, Nellie--" "He does!" "I'm glad of it," retorted Mr.Shrimplin, taking a chew of tobacco.

"For I don't reckon he'd ever suit any one else!" "You and none of my family never liked Joe!" said Mrs.Montgomery.
"Well, why should we ?" demanded Mr.Shrimplin impatiently.
"Your wife,--my own sister, too,--said he should never darken her door, and he was that proud he never did! You couldn't have dragged him there!" said Mrs.Montgomery, and the ready tears dimmed her eyes.
"And you couldn't have dragged him away quick enough if he had a-come! Now don't you get tearful over Joe, you can't call him no prodigal; his veal's tough old beef by this time! But I never had nothing in particular against him more than I thought he ought to be kicked clean off the face of the earth!" said Mr.Shrimplin, rolling his drooping flaxen mustache fiercely between his stubby thumb and its neighboring forefinger.
Such personal relations as the little lamplighter had sustained with the handy-man had invariably been of the most friendly and pacific description.