Ebenezer seemed so utterly cast down by this confirmation of his worst suspicions, that Herbert called Mr. Melville, thinking he might be able to say something to comfort him.
CHAPTER XIX. EBENEZER GRAHAM'S GRIEF.
“How much have you lost by your son, Mr. Graham?” asked George Melville.
“Nearly two hundred and fifty dollars,” groaned Ebenezer, “counting what I paid in the city to his creditors, it is terrible, terrible!” and he wrung his hands in his bitterness of spirit.
“I am sorry for you,” said Melville, “and still more for him.”
“Why should you be sorry for him?” demanded Ebenezer, sharply. “He hasn't lost anything.”
“Is it nothing to lose his consciousness of integrity, to leave his home knowing that he is a thief?”
“Little he'll care for that!” said Mr. Graham, shrugging his shoulders. “He's laughing in his sleeve, most likely, at the way he has duped and cheated me, his father.”
“How old is Eben, Mr. Graham?”