“Sir Gilbert’s run oot efter the wuman, sir!” she said.
“Hoots!” grunted the minister, greatly displeased, and went back to his wife.
“Take Sir Gilbert’s plate away,” said Mrs. Sclater to the servant.
“That’s his New Testament again!” she went on, when the girl had left the room.
“My dear! my dear! take care,” said her husband. He had not much notion of obedience to God, but he had some idea of respect to religion. He was just an idolater of a Christian shade.
“Really, Mr. Sclater,” his wife continued, “I had no idea what I was undertaking. But you gave me no choice. The creature is incorrigible. But of course he must prefer the society of women like that. They are the sort he was accustomed to when he received his first impressions, and how could it be otherwise? You knew how he had been brought up, and what you had to expect!”
“Brought up!” cried the minister, and caused his spoonful of cockie-leekie to rush into his mouth with the noise of the German schlürfen, then burst into a loud laugh. “You should have seen him about the streets!—with his trowsers—”
“Mister Sclater! Then you ought to have known better!” said his wife, and laying down her spoon, sat back into the embrace of her chair.
But in reality she was not the least sorry he had undertaken the charge. She could not help loving the boy, and her words were merely the foam of vexation, mingled with not a little jealousy, that he had left her, and his nice hot dinner, to go with the woman. Had she been a fine lady like herself, I doubt if she would have liked it much better; but she specially recoiled from coming into rivalry with one in whose house a horrible murder had been committed, and who had been before the magistrates in consequence.
Nothing further was said until the second course was on the table. Then the lady spoke again: