"Indeed, but I have," was the reply.

"Why, damn it, you pinch too hard. Well, and what success?"

"Why, what do you think?"

"Another _put-off_; another _call-again_, to-be-sure."

"I would not go till he downed with the stuff."

"No!" (with a broad stare;) "it a'n't possible."

"Seeing is believing, I hope;" (producing a piece of paper.)

"Why, so it is. A check!--but--what's that name?--let's see,"
(stooping to examine the signature:)--"_Jane Talbot_. Who the devil
is she?"

"Don't you know her? She's his sister. A devilish rich girl."

"But how? does _she_ lend him money?"

"Yes, to-be-sure. She's his sister, you know."

"But how does she get money? Is she a widow?"

"No. She is a girl, I've heard, not eighteen. 'Tis not my look-out how
she gets money, so as her check's good; and that I'll fix as soon as the
door's open."