“Sit down,” said Mrs. Catherine. “I have something to say to you.”
The lad obeyed.
“Have you been long in the keeping of these vile cattle? I am meaning, have you been long in the unwholesome neighborhood of that man?”
The Honorable Giles laughed; tried to be very frank, and at his ease, and answered that he had been a month at Strathoran.
“Dwelling night and day under the shadow of uncleanness and all iniquity. Young man, to whom do you belong? Has nobody charge of you?”
To which the Honorable Giles responded, somewhat offended, that he was quite able to take care of himself.
“Are you?” said Mrs. Catherine; “you are the first of your years that I ever knew capable of doing so. Have you father or mother living?”
“My father is: he’s in France,” said young Sympelton: “my mother is dead.”
“Ay, it is even as I thought. Poor motherless lad, trusted in such company. Is your father in his senses, that he perils you thus?”
“In his senses! what do you mean?” exclaimed the Honorable Giles.