“I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. “And let us have a talk about this—some other time. "Your hesitation convinces me he does," replied the widow. At this juncture, a cry burst from the child, who, nearly smothered by the weight imposed upon him, only recovered the use of his lungs as Wood altered the position of the bundle. He talked at the blackboard in a pleasant, very slightly lisping voice with a curious spontaneity, and was sometimes very clumsy in his exposition, and sometimes very vivid.
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