"Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh. "It's not
very likely that a babby of nine months old will save _my_ life, if I'm
to be his friend, as you seem to say, Mrs. Sheppard. But I've not
promised to stand by him yet; nor will I, unless he turns out an honest
lad,--mind that. Of all crafts,--and it was the only craft his poor
father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever
handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,--of all crafts, I
say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. As long as your son
observes that precept I'll befriend him, but no longer."

"I don't desire it, Sir," replied Mrs. Sheppard, meekly.

"There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the
fire, "which says,--'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll
creep out at your elbow.' But I don't value that, because I think it
applies to one who marries a widow with encumbrances; and that's not my
case, you know."

"Well, Sir," gasped Mrs. Sheppard.

"Well, my dear, I've a proposal to make in regard to this babby of
yours, which may, or may not, be agreeable. All I can say is, it's well
meant; and I may add, I'd have made it five minutes ago, if you'd given
me the opportunity."

"Pray come to the point, Sir," said Mrs. Sheppard, somewhat alarmed by
this preamble.

"I _am_ coming to the point, Joan. The more haste, the worse