"Stop, come back, ma'am, sit down; it's a pity--you've no business, ma'am, as I said before, to have incumbrances, when you haven't got any visible means of support. Now, if you only had one, one incumbrance--and that you'd no business to have"--said the old gent, doggedly, tapping an antique tortoise-shell snuff box, and applying "the pungent grains of titillating dust," as Pope observes, to his proboscis, "if you had only _one_ incumbrance--but you've got a house full, ma'am." "No, sir, only three!" answered widow Glenn. "Three, only three? God bless me, ma'am, I wouldn't be a poor woman with two--no, with one incumbrance at my petticoat tails--for the biggest ship and cargo old Steve Girard ever owned, ma'am." "I might," meekly said the widow, "put my son with the printer, sir; he has offered to take my poor boy." "Two girls and a boy?" inquiringly asked the old gent, applying the dust, and manipulating his box. "How old? Eldest thirteen, eh?--boy eleven, and the youngest seven, eh?" and working a traverse, or solving some problematic point, Job Carson stuck his hands under his morning gown, and strode over the floor; after a few evolutions of the kind, he stopped--fumbled in a drawer of a secretary, and placing a ten dollar note in the widow's hand, he said: "There, ma'am; I don't know that I shall want you, but to-morrow morning, if you have time, from other and more important business, call in, bring your children with you; good morning, ma'am--Banquo!" "Yis, sah; I'se heah." "Show the lady out--good morning, ma'am, good morning." "I like that woman's looks," said old Job, continuing his walk; "she's plain and tidy; she's industrious, I'll warrant; if she only hadn't that raft of _incumbrances_; what do these people have incumbrances for, anyway?--" "Lady at the doo-ah, sah," said Banquo.