Steward. Oh, sir, your father’s house is burned to the ground.
Mr. H. My father’s house! How come it set on fire?
Steward. I think, sir, it must have been the torches.
Mr. H. Torches! What torches?
Steward. At your mother’s funeral.
Mr. H. Alas! my mother dead?
Steward. Ah, poor lady, she never looked up after it!
Mr. H. After what?
Steward. The loss of your father.
Mr. H. My father gone, too?