The insurance agent climbed the steps and rang the bell.
"Whom do you wish to see?" asked the careworn person who came to the door.
"I want to see the boss of the house," replied the insurance agent. "Are you the boss?"
"No," meekly returned the man who came to the door; "I'm only the husband of the boss. Step in, I'll call the boss."
The insurance agent took a seat in the hall, and in a short time a tall dignified woman appeared.
"So you want to see the boss?" repeated the woman. "Well, just step into the kitchen. This way, please. Bridget, this gentleman desires to see you."
"Me th' boss!" exclaimed Bridget, when the insurance agent asked her the question. "Indade Oi'm not! Sure here comes th' boss now."
She pointed to a small boy of ten years who was coming toward the house.
"Tell me," pleaded the insurance agent, when the lad came into the kitchen, "are you the boss of the house?"
"Want to see the boss?" asked the boy. "Well, you just come with me."
Wearily the insurance agent climbed up the stairs. He was ushered into a room on the second floor and guided to the crib of a sleeping baby.
"There!" exclaimed the boy, "that's the real boss of this house."