“You take me for a miser?” he said, trembling, and stood expecting an answer.
Crawford was bewildered: what business had he there?
“I am not a miser!” resumed the laird. “A man may count his money without being a miser!”
He stood and stared, still trembling, at his guest, either too much startled or too gentle to find fault with his intrusion.
“I beg your pardon, laird,” said George. “I knocked, but receiving no answer, feared something was wrong.”
“But why are you out of bed—and you an invalid?” returned Mr. Fordyce.
“I heard a heavy fall, and feared the lightning had done some damage.”
“We shall see about that in the morning, and in the meantime you had better go to bed,” said the laird.
They turned together toward the door.
“What a multitude of books, you have, Mr. Fordyce!” remarked George. “I had not a notion of such a library in the county!”