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"Pray, what's the object of your visit to me, may I ask?"
"My husband, sir--he runn'd away from me, sure."
"Small blame to him," replied the conjurer. "If I had such a wife I
would not remain a single hour in her company."
"And is that the tratement you give a heart-broken and desarted crature
like me?"
"Come, what made him run away from you?"
"In regard, sir, of a dislike he took to me."
"That was a proof that the man had some taste."
"Ay, but why hadn't he that taste afore he married me?"
"It was very well that he had it afterwards--better late than never."
"I want you to tell me where he is."
"What family have you?"
"Seven small childre that's now fatherless, I may say."
"What kind of a man was your husband?"
"Why, indeed, as handsome a vagabone as you'd see in a day's
travellin'."
"Mention his name; I can tell you nothing till I hear it."
"He's called Rantin' Rody, the thief, and a great schamer he is among
the girls."
"Ranting Rody--let me see," and here he looked very solemnly into his
book--"yes; I see--a halter.


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