“Oh, then, of course, it is very sad,” said Mrs Cruden.
“Sad’s no name for it,” replied the visitor, with emotion. “Oh, Mrs Cruden, ’ow sorry I am for you.”
“You are very kind. It is a sad trial to be separated from my boy, but I’ve not given up hopes of seeing him back soon.”
Mrs Shuckleford shook her head.
“’Ow you must suffer on ’is account,” said she. “If your ’eart don’t break with it, it must be made of tougher stuff than mine.”
“But after all, Mrs Shuckleford,” said Mrs Cruden, “there are worse troubles in this life than separation.”
“You’re right. Oh, I’m so sorry for you.”
“Why for me? I have only the lighter sorrow.”
“Oh, Mrs Cruden, do you call a wicked son a light sorrow?”
“Certainly not, but my sons, thank God, are good, brave boys, both of them.”